Arrow is the Minus Sign
by Robindanewsie
Summary: Three intruders in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base. One archer, one speedster, one hacker. In math, to get from three to two you must have a one and a minus sign. Who knew the minus sign this time would be an arrow? CHARACTER DEATH, rated T for now. Not graphic, I'm just paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

**A N)Hey guys. I'm still doing Apprentice, just had to get this outta my brain. So here it is. A Marvel DC crossover. With Robin, Kid Flash and Speedy. I don't own them, so don't sue me. Enjoy!**

Steve Rogers rounded the corner, shield grasped in hand. Metallic footsteps followed behind him. Their pace was hurried, eyes searching the halls in front of them. Alarms had been triggered fifteen minutes ago on the Heli-Carrier. Fury had sent them to investigate the three alien heat signatures.

"Maybe it's a system failure?" Steve asked his companion.

"Cap, _I_ made the updates on the security system. Are you saying that _Stark Technology_ is to blame here?"

"Stark Tech? Then defiantly yes."

Tony Stark blew a raspberry at the super soldier. About to snark back, Steve stopped him by holding an arm across his chest.

"Listen."

Here were murmured voices down the hall and around the corner.

"….hurry….too long….hungry…."

"Hold on…..firewall…..back up…."

The duo slowly approached, then rushing around the corner. Three children were trapped between them and a locked steel door. The eldest had fire red hair with a yellow cap and feather on his head. He sported a red tunic and yellow boots. His eyes covered by a domino mask. A bow set with a red arrow was clutched firmly in his hand.

The second also had bright red hair, freckles covered his face. He wore a yellow and red jump suit, most of his face covered by a mask that extended from his suit. Goggles rested up on his forehead, his green eyes widened in shock.

The third and youngest boy bore a black and red spandex suit. His messy oxen hair coved the domino mask he wore. A yellow belt surrounded his waist. A blue holo-screen was being projected from his black glove. He looked unimpressed, eyes looking at the heroes and then back to the screen, his fingers continuing to tap in code.

"Boomerang."The eldest spat, arrow trained on Steve's head." So much for Joker Venoming stealth."

"Language." The youngest said in a sing song voice

"Hey! That's my tech! That's Stark Tech! Give it back!" Tony demanded like a five year old child whose toy car had been taken.

The boys exchanged looks, the yellow clad ginger raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah no, that's his Dad's tech." Yellow said, scratching his head. "What's a Stark?"

Tony fumed, waving his arms in the air and shouting nonsense words.

"Kids," Steve moved his shield to its resting position on his back," I'm Captain America. I don't know why you're here. Are you lost? The Avengers are totally willing to help you."

"Thanks." The youngest gave a wicked grin. He stopped his typing." We _are_ lost. It's just so _scary_ up here. I'm _petrified_ in _worry!"_ Steve smiled comfortingly; Tony raised an eyebrow as the two red heads pulled extremely fake sad faces." It's a shame my father didn't tell me what to do in cases like this. Did yours Speedy?"

"No, no he didn't Robin. I have no _clue_ what on Earth to do! How about you, Kid Flash?"

" _My father_ didn't, but my uncle did." Steve was starting to catch on to the theatrics." You know what he said?" The youngest, Robin's, finger pressed on a final button, the large doors sliding open as 'Kid Flash' smirked." _Run."_

The trio turned and sprinted through the doorway. Steve cried out in shock and raced after them, Tony hot on his heels. He almost caught up with them as the three kids turned a corner. He heard a terrified shout.

"KF! Look out!"

There was a grunt and a thud, a small scream and a whine of pain. Not good. Steve skidded to a stop, eyes widening in horror as he looked down at his feet. Robin has lying on the ground, red blood trickling out of his chest. Speedy as pressing his hands against the ebony's wound, blood trickling out from his hands. Kid Flash sat in a stunned position on his face, only a few feet away from Robin, still where he had been knocked down. A bloody tipped arrow rested beside the youngest.

 ** _Breakline_**

Clint Barton had been paired with Natasha like usual. They had searched over half of the base, both on alert. Clint was twitchy, after the Loki affair he didn't like it when the Heli-Carrier was messed with. It would take some serious balls and brains to get on.

His bow had been ready for twenty minutes, just waiting to pierce whoever was messing around with S.H.I.E.L.D. So when he heard footsteps racing towards him, he swiveled, aimed and fired. Without truly looking at his target. Not registering that he was shooting at children until it was too late.

"KF! Look out!" A masked black haired boy, slammed into a green eyed ginger. The arrow mercilessly entering his chest. The boy he had shoved out of the way grunted as he slammed into the floor on his bottom, a scream escaping his lips as he heard the whimper of pain leave his friend as he fell. The third and eldest, let a bow clatter to the ground, his masked eyes wide in panic.

The archer dropped down next to his friend, tenderly pulling the arrow out, hands pressing against the wound. The yellow clad boy hadn't moved, he sat in shock.

Clint hadn't lowered his bow, it was still held in place. Complete fear had overridden his system. He had killed before. He had been a hit man. But-he had just shot a child. A young, insanely short boy. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move; all he could do was stare at the crimson red staining the child.

Thundering footsteps came from where the kids had, Tony and Steve stopping and gawking at the children. More footsteps echoed from the corridor to the left. Thor and Bruce meeting up with them. Gasps and whispered shouts filled the air. Tasha's gentle hands guided the bow down.

He had killed a child. There was too much shock. He had killed a boy. A kid. Clint had killed once again, this time his victim—an innocent boy.

 ** _Breakline_**

"Captain Cold it Robin." Roy hissed, pressing down on his brother's wound." Why would you do a dumb Nekron thing like that?"

A weak chuckled escaped his pale lips, blood trickling out and staining his paling cheek.

"W-Well, I've always been one for b-bravado."

"You idiot, you could've got yourself killed!"

"I did," Dick looked straight at him, Roy scowled."I-I'm sorry. I should've hacked faster."

"No..no. It's not your fault." Wally breathed, moving closer to his brothers. His heart pounding in fear. Robin would be alright, he was Robin. That made him invincible right? RIGHT?

Robin laughed again, more blood spilling against his fair skin." Ne vedem mai târziu frați."

"Don't give up Robin, don't you dare."Wally gasped as Roy's voice faded. No. He couldn't be…he wasn't! "DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! DON'T YOU DARE! ROBIN! Robin….please….come-come back."

Roy bowed his head. Wally grasped his head, curling into a tight ball. Both boys knelt next to their fallen brother. Roy shook in rage, Wally shook in anguish. Tears brimmed in his green eyes, slowly falling out. Tears brimmed behind Roy's mask, spilling as he lifted his face up and screamed in pain. Wally released a strangled sob, eyes closed tightly.

"YOU IDIOT! WHY THE MERLYN DID YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?"Roy raged, his fists balling up."YOU'RE SUCH A MORON! YOU STUPID, SENSLESS, DUMB, HEROIC, PERFECT, GENIOUS, CARING, KIND, HAPPY, SPELENDID, SKILLED, DARING, DAUNTLESS, PEPPY, AMAZING YOUNGER BROTHER! WHY DIDN'T I SAVE YOU? WHY-WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?"Roy bit his lip, angrily brushing tears away."Why?"

Wally grasped Dick's body, leaning his head on the unmoving chest. His heart breaking when he didn't hear the rhythmic beating on the Boy Wonder's heart. Wally heard Roy scream, Roy was always one to show pain loudly. Wally couldn't. He just…couldn't.

Roy swayed to his feet, wiping wildly at his face. Blood. Dick's crimson blood stained his hands, and now his face. He gasped, eyes staring at the sickening red. His eyes looked at his baby brother, tears stinging in the chocolate brown eyes. He saw the arrow he had removed. Arrow. Like his. He was wearing the tool that murdered his brother.

He ripped the quiver off of his back. Chucking them across the hall. He spun in a circle, head lifted to the ceiling, hands clutching his hair.

"Kid…"

Roy looked at who spoke. An archer. A sandy haired man with a bow in his hand. The one who killed his brother.

"Murderer." The word had barely left his lips before he had slammed into the archer. Roy could hear people call out, he heard 'Clint', 'Hawkeye' and 'Speedy' shouted. He felt his fist connect with a nose, and a satisfactory crack. Hands gripped his arms, ripping him off the murderer. A red haired woman was helping the murderer up. "I'LL KILL YOU!" He cried, thrashing against the restraints."I'LL PUT AN ARROW IN YOUR CHEST! I SWEAR ON THE LEAGUE I'LL KILL YOU!"

 **AN) Aren't I evil? That was probably rushed, but thins will slow down. How the kids got into Marvel will be explained later. This mainly focused on Roy's grief, Wally's will be covered soon. Review! Review and more chapter will come soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN) I'm back! Who's ready for another chapter? I hope you are, get ready. Have fun!**

 **Me no own DC or Marvel. If I did there would be a live action Bat FAM show, Young Justice would be in its seventh season (Robin the main character), Teen Titans would be in its twelfth. With a whole AU series based on the Apprentice episodes, and maybe one based off my Apprentice story.**

The boy sat quietly in his chair. He hadn't moved for hours, he just stared at the floor, ignoring those who questioned him. He couldn't open his mouth, or he would scream. His tears were dry, he held himself composed. Just like Robin.

Robin was strong and brave. He always had a cool head. Almost always. Robin was hurt and broken. Battered and torn. But on the outside? He was calm. He smiled when happy, laughing and joking. Under pressure he might panic mentally, but his façade of calm was always there.

Robin was the reason he had joined this fight. One of his role models and inspirations. And now he was gone. But it was worse than that. His brother was gone.

Robin was the cool and collected, Dick Grayson was the happiness and laughter. Robin was the stoic, Dick Grayson was the emotional. Dick Grayson held the love, passion and drive Robin showed the world. And both were dead.

Blame was placed on the boy's shoulders by himself. That was Robin, always thinking about the plan. Goodbye's had been made to family, that was Dick. Always thinking about family.

Robin had blamed himself for his death. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't! It was his all his.

They had been exploring an old lab in the Watchtower. The three brothers pocking around with the unplugged, dust gathering devices as they waited for a meeting to finish and a mission to end. It had been safe, as long as nothing had been turned on. So they flipped switches and pulled levers of the broken machines. Rob always checking to make sure that they were indeed broken. Until one wasn't.

Wally was so stupid. He had rushed ahead, yanking a lever down on a device Robin hadn't looked at. It had thrust them into a gray hallway, defiantly not in the Watchtower.

And Robin had been murdered. Dick was gone. It was all his fault. Wally had taken his best friends life, his brother. What would his uncle say? What about Batman? The League would hate him. Wouldn't they?

"…..got to answer us sometime kid."

Wally glanced up. His head never moved, but his emerald eyes looked to the woman interrogating him. Her brown hair was pulled into a neat bun. She stood in the blue uniform that the agents on this 'Helicarrier' wore. Her posture was ridged, arms crossed firmly.

Wally's hands were locked onto the chair's armrests, his ankles bound to the chair legs. To his surprise he spoke, low and quite.

"I was somebody." He whispered, blinking back tears. "But he died a little while ago. In a hallway. Sacrificing himself for his friends. In a place he never new. I died when my brother did."

"Well, then, who were you?"

"Kid Flash. The Fastest Boy Alive. Protégé and heir to the title of The Flash; the Fastest Man Alive."

"What's your real name?"

"My commander—" Wally swallowed a sob. Robin was always the leader, he was the best. It was a joke, his title 'Commander'. Since he was the littlest and youngest." Told me never to reveal my identity unless I was otherwise given permission from my mentor or the Justice League. "

"And your commander was?"

"My brother." Wally whimpered, feeling the tears stinging in his eyes and slip over his mask."Robin, the Boy Wonder. T-The one who died."

 **Breakline**

Roy twisted against his restraints, snarling like a caged animal. Because that's what he was. His anger was still there, it needed to be released. On that archer. That monster who had murdered his brother. Roy wanted to inflict the same pain he had inside him on the murderer. He wanted to take whatever he held most dear, and pierce it with an arrow from Roy's own quiver, and make him watch helplessly, as he lost what he loved most.

"Let me go!" He yelled.

"And let you wreak havoc around here? I don't think so."

The interrogator was middle aged, his brown hair plastered down across his head. He leaned on the table between the two, his hands bearing the weight. His suit was clean and pressed, a pair of sunglasses hanging off his collar.

Roy struggled some more, growling. Spitting insults at the agent. Using every villain based curse he knew, fictional curses, even slipping in a few real swears. The interrogator watched unimpressed, as Roy shouted, calling him a moron—promising his revenge.

"Are you done yet?"

"No! And you're a jack Nekron!" Roy called, panting in rage."There."

"Good. I have some questions for you."

Roy gritted his teeth." My name's Speedy, the Boy Bowman. My mentor is Green Arrow, a member of the Justice League. I don't know why I'm here, we were messing around with broken stuff and something wasn't as broken as we thought. That's all I'm telling you. Now. LET ME GO!"

The agent sighed, that was all he needed. But why was the kid so angry? What on Earth had happened?

"What's got your feathers all ruffled?"

The kid paled, his eyes narrowing into masked slits."Shut up! Don't you dare say something like that!"

"What did I say?"

"You're sick. He's dead! He just died! I had to pull an arrow out of my brother. My _youngest_ , most amazing brother! Arrows are my protection! They stole my bird from me! I just watched my baby bird die. Robin's dead! And you have the mordacity to say that? I just watched my baby brother die, I held my nine year old, perfect, amazing baby brother as he d-died!"

The teen broke into hysteric sobs, shoulders shaking violently. Roy lost it, the tears he had kept away swept over him, drowning out righteous furry with terrifying grief.

The brown haired agent stared for a moment, translating what was said. A child has dead, this boy—this Speedy, had a connection to him. And he had watched, and held him as he died. That wasn't right at all. It wasn't something that S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to let happen.

"Fury." He tapped the ear piece, going to find out what was really going on. The only instructions he had received were to interrogate this intruder.

"Coulson?"

"What on Earth happened today after the alarms went off?"

 **Breakline**

He was crying like a baby. Bitter tears streaming down his face. No super hero was supposed to cry, it was weak. No teenager was supposed to weep, that was childish. But Roy couldn't stop. Tears of anger and sadness clouded his vision.

Robin…Dickie… he was gone. Roy had felt the life leave his body, he felt the rhythmic _thump, thump_ of his heart finish. He should've done something! It was an arrow wound, wouldn't that be something Roy could treat?

Arrows were his weapon. His safe guard. Roy could save the world with them. Arrows were protection, they kept his brothers safe. But on had stolen his brother. Taken him from by a tool Roy considered an ally. Where was the justice in that? Why would that happen? Arrows…didn't feel like a friend to Roy enemy more. Not when he had seen them, acting like a minus sign, taking away his brother.

 **Breakline**

The room was silent, the sole occupant staring at the wall across from him. Sitting on a medical table, he blocked out the world. His mind focusing on images he wished to forget.

The way a child had selflessly thrown himself into danger, showing more bravery than most adults. The slow motion way a freckled ginger fell, the look of shock on his face as he slammed slowly into the floor. How the shock morphed into panic as he watched an arrow pierce his friends chest.

The boy's eyes as he stared at the arrow shaft, he stood there staring at the weapon. Surprise at the fact, mild surprise at the fact he had been shot. But his face looked as if he knew this was going to happen. The child's masked eyes left the shaft sticking out of his chest, turning his attention to the archer who had fired. A small, forgiving smile had passed through his lips.

During the shock, a loud clatter came from next to the wounded. A teenager dropped a bow, the red weapon clinking against the floor. The teen's mouth fell open, fear flashing through him.

It had all happened so slowly, so slowly that it felt like someone could've stopped it. Then it sped up. The arrow pierced lad toppled to his knees, the teenaged archer catching him swiftly. Clinging onto his body. The freckled boy released a strangled scream of fear.

The worst part was the red. Red liquid dripped from the new hole in the wounded. It clashed horribly with the shade of the red top. The blood flowed slowly to the ground, falling drop by drop. Painting an ugly picture on the pristine floor. One of death and pain.

The boy had smiled at him. A small smile, a fleeting one. It was heartbreaking, he had accepted death. Saving his friends and abandoning his own.  
It was courageous and brave, but it was nothing a child should have to do. The boy had forgiven him, even though he was a complete stranger. And the kid's murderer. That smile said it all, acceptance and forgiveness.

Tears pricked his eyes. The boy was too young! He shouldn't be gone.

Tender arms encircled him, pulling his head against a soft chest. The tears slipped, silently falling across a weathered face. Killing was wrong, even worse when it was an innocent victim.

"I'm sorry Baby." The angelic voice whispered." I'm so sorry."

"He smiled at me Nat." Clint whispered back, squeezing Natasha back in a hug."He looked right at me and smiled."

"I know Clint, I know."

Clint closed his eyes, burring his head on Nat's shoulder. For some odd reason, a fleeting image of a oxen haired, red top black pant wearing, cape sporting, Robin's egg blue eyed, boy laughing crossed the archer's mind. The child grinned, his cape billowing behind him, a large 'R' was proudly displayed over his heart.

 _"_ _I'm Robin, the Boy Wonder!"_ The figure declared, laughing proudly. _"And I'm here to save the day!"_

Clint knew that was who he had killed, a truly happy child. A boy who could laugh and smile. His smile was amazing, so innocent and peppy. And Clint had stolen that from the world.

"I'm sorry, Robin. I'm sorry."

 **Breakline**

The boy, looked around. Very confused. It was bright and sunny, just like he thought Heaven would always be like. Warm and happy.

He was still in his uniform, but the tear and blood stains were gone, his chest didn't hurt at all. It shouldn't, the Bible said in Heaven, all sickness and hurt would go away.

"Richard." A voice called to him. Dick turned around, his eyes widening in awe—a smile breaking out across his face.

"Jesus." He breathed out. Rushing over to the man. He was clothed in white, his face was kindly and shining.

He smiled down and the little boy, accepting the hug Dick gave him.

"Hello Little One. Welcome home."

"Hi." Dick breathed out, he was here. The place where everything was right. The only place where he could be with _all_ of his family at once. But most importantly, where he could be with his Savior forever.

"You were very brave, Little One. You gave your life for those you love. Come, I must claim you before my Father, then you must be reunited with our parents."

Richard nodded happily, clasping the King of Kings' hand as they walked. To meet God. To live in a paradise forever.

 **AN) I reverenced my faith, so sue me! Please review. I like reviews, they give me ideas. Have a great week!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN) I'm back! I'm sorry it's been a while. I've had to work on The Apprentice, schedule for high school write a few English paper and work on a script for my Young Playwrights' group. Here's another chappie and some of Alfred's cookies. (::) (::) (::) (::)**

 ***WARNING*- If you cry at sad Wally fluff you will need a tissue**

"I don't care if they don't show up in the database! You are not allowed to hold them hostage!"

Director Fury simply watched the pacing man before him. The Avengers were crowding his office, Captain was pacing and shouting. Banner looked as if he was trying to keep his anger down, Stark appeared to be heavily annoyed. The Asgardian was chiming in every now and then with Rogers—talking about honor and kindness. Fury's two best agents were silent, Barton looking like he was ready to cry and Romanova comforting him.

"Captain. These boys are not from this Earth. One of them has super powers, we cannot let them run loose."

"So don't! We'll take care of them! The Tower will be safe enough."

"There were three of them Fury." Stark chided." You might see two illegal aliens, but all I can see are a couple kids who just went through a nightmare. Keeping them in cells is not the way to go."

"I agree with the man of iron! They are young, suffering from sadness of a fallen comrade. They must be comforted."

"Either you let them go peacefully, or we take them." Banner threatened, his skin looking slightly green. Just a bit.

The kids weren't worth this trouble. To have the Avengers and Coulson on him about them. It wouldn't be so bad for the boys to be sent to Avengers tower, Coulson could go with them. Romanova and Barton could keep them from escaping.

"Fine." He sighed. Looks of pride and success crossed the heroes' faces." Agent Coulson will be posted in the Tower, and S.H.I.E.L.D. will be checking in on them."

 **BREAKLINE**

 **"** _I will avenge my brother. I won't fail anyone else. I will avenge my brother. He won't have died in vain. I won't fail anyone else._

Roy gritted his teeth once more, pulling harder against the cuffs latching his wrists to the chair arms. He wouldn't let Dick's death go unavenged. He wouldn't. He couldn't! He could hear people talking past the one way mirror, faint murmurs of voices. No real sentences could be made out, but there was lots of shouting.

The swish of a door announced someone's arrival, Roy's masked eyes lifting from his boots, staring down two blonde, well-muscled men. Two of the men who had watched his brother die. Who had stared at Robin as he clung onto life, their mouths hanging open. Some heroes they were.

"What?" He hissed, turning his strongest glare upon them. "Here to torture me? You've already down a fine job, killing off innocents always gets to people. But I'm _not_ talking."

The horror and shock in their eyes sparked a small hint of glee in Roy. Their defenses would be down, they thought him a weak little boy. Time to play it up a bit.

"Y-You can't make m-me." He shuddered, fighting back more tears, some real and some were fake. The real came from his brother's laugh, the fake added to make the waterworks sadder. "I-I won't fail him again. I w-won't!"

Oh no, now he was crying for real. He had failed his brother, he was supposed to protect Dick, to keep him safe. Now he was dead, and it was all Roy's fault, all his fault.

"It's okay kid, we're not going to hurt you. I promise." Someone murmured. The same time as Rot felt the pressure leave his wrists and ankles.

Roy's plan to attack was forgotten. He sobbed, pulling his hands to his face, knees to his chest. Hiding his tears. He hated crying, hated it. Weeks upon weeks spent in that Boy's home had taught him not to cry. But he was sobbing now, tear upon tear felling from his eyes.

He wanted his brother. Robin. Richard. Dick. He didn't care which one. If he got the cocky super hero Roy would love him. If he got the sly slightly spoiled heir he would love him. If the giggling acrobat was handed over to him Roy would never let him go.

A hand was placed on his knee, another lifting his chin up to look at him. Blue eyes smiled sadly, a soft smile pressed against a youthful face. Oh Joker Venom, the eyes, the blue eyes. _Blue._

 ** _His bit his lip, nervously wringing his cape. The two boys sat beside him, one upside down, and the other sort of melting off the couch. Wally's head was rested on the ground his feet up in the air, throwing popcorn in his mouth. Roy slouched, flipping through channels. He was the first to notice the small trembles coming off of Robin._**

 ** _"_** ** _You okay birdie?" He asked, cocking his head towards the boy. Wally swiveling to look at him._**

 ** _Robin started to nod, then shook his head. Wally raised an eyebrow and righted himself, sitting like a normal person._**

 ** _"_** ** _Bat-Batman said I could show you guys." Roy and Wally's eyes widened. Each looking at each other._**

 ** _"_** ** _Go on!" Wally cheered, he had been pestering the Boy Wonder ever since they had met._**

 ** _"_** ** _W-What if someone finds out?" Robin panicked. "What if someone reads your mind, or you get a truth serum used on you, or aliens kidnap you and make you choose between watching a High School Musical marathon, listening to Justin Bieber or telling my ID! I know what I would choose!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _Musical." Roy nodded," You can close your eyes through that."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Dude! Please!" Wally fell of the couch and onto his knees, holing his hands above his head in prayer. "I begging you Robin! Pleeeeaaase!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _We'd never tell your ID." Roy promised, itching to see the face of his younger brother. "I promise, we know how much it means, we have them too."_**

 ** _"_** ** _I know." Robin fidgeted. "But what if they hurt you for knowing it? It would be all my fault."_**

 ** _"_** ** _HAH!" Wall scoffed. "Like they can catch a Flash."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Dude," Robin deadpanned," you got kidnapped last week."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Shaddup—and let me see your eyes!" Wally wailed._**

 ** _"_** ** _They won't, they can't. And it won't be your fault. They wouldn't be able to hurt us. You'd sweep in and save us like damsels in distress. Again." Roy chuckled, Robin relaxing._**

 ** _"_** ** _Okay, here goes."_**

 ** _Roy and Wally waited on baited breath, as the bird remover his mask. It was agonizingly slow. Wally was vibrating in place._**

 ** _Blue. Puddles of the purest, deepest ocean had been scoped up by God's hand and placed into two wondrously round eyes. Such soft hints of sky blue, bright splashes of Robin's egg blue. Pools of soft dark blue sparkled. Roy's mouth dropped. Wally squealed in delight. He grabbed Robin's face and pressed their foreheads together._**

 ** _"_** ** _You should be an eye model. They are the most adorable things I've ever seen. I shall protect your beautiful eyes Robin, protect them with my life!"_**

 ** _Robin pulled back, rolling the perfect blue eyes at the ginger's antics. "I've got one more fanboy I guess."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Wait a Merlyn minute. Dick Grayson?"_**

 ** _Robin cackled, leaping up and giving an elaborate bow. His head shot up, body still bent over._**

 ** _"_** ** _Welcome to Wayne Manor Mr. Queen, we request all leprechauns be left with their rainbows."_**

 ** _Roy laughed, of course only the Boy Wonder would say something like that._**

 ** _"_** ** _Holy fudge nuggets!" Wally cried. "Bruce Wayne it BATMAN? Next you'll be telling me Captain Marvel is eight!"_**

Roy released a shuddering sob, biting his lip to keep from calling out for his brothers. He had promised to never reveal their identities. He had promised to listen to Bieber and watch High School Musical if the aliens made him. That vow was still intact, even if one of them was…dead.

 _Breakline_

"Son. Son, I need you to listen to me. Son, please."

The boy's head rocketed up, his nostrils flared, cheeks tear stained and pale.

"I'm not your _son."_

Steve nodded. He was so used to calling everyone son, being the eldest of the group. His team had gotten used to it, jokingly calling him 'Papa 'Murica' from time to time.

"I know, my name is Steve Rogers. This is my friend Thor. We're going to take you to our tower, okay?"

The archer growled softly, nodding stiffly. Steve knew he was trying to be angry, but all the boy wanted to do was be wrapped in a hug and cry. Cry for his fallen brother. Like Steve had that one night…

"Where's Kid Flash?" Speedy, Steve thought he had called himself demanded. "I'm not going anywhere without him."

"He's coming to. Don't worry. Follow me."

The young boy followed the blonde, the Norse God following behind him.

"Your brother was a very brave youth. To give such a sacrifice would guarantee him a place in Helheim. He will be honored as a warrior."

"Think that was brave?" Speedy snorted angrily. Steve could hear the desperation and agreement behind the angry façade. "Should've at least let him live till thirteen, kid-kid would've knocked your socks off."

The trio continued down the hall, Steve brainstorming ways to help Speedy. Getting him to talk about his brother would help. Just letting him rant about his favorite memories, Bruce had done that with Steve about Bucky. Speedy should journal. Writing down his feelings would help open his heart to God's healing. It helped Steve. He shouldn't come in close contact to arrows. Steve didn't do trains for a while.

"Speedy! Speedy!" Footsteps pounded in front of them, the small red and yellow clad child, plowing into the archer. Kid Flash hide his face in the red tunic, arms circling the waist, holding on for dear life. Speedy hugged back, desperately trying to keep from crying.

 _Breakline_

It smelled like Roy. The tunic. As always. Like Robin said. Cinnamon, red crayon, Sherwood Forrest, bachelor food, archer sweat and tiny hints of sea side washing detergent. That kid and his nose, could smell things a mile away.

The scent comforted Wally, he inhaled deeply, pressing his face against his brother's stomach. He didn't want Roy to leave, never. Wally always wanted to be able to feel his brother, or at least be able to hug him in under a minute. He had let Dick go, he hadn't been close enough. And now he was gone. Gone.

Robin couldn't be gone. He waited for the bird to fall from the vents, rolling on the floor and laughing. The people around him to burst out smiling. For Dick to sway to his feet, scream 'Gotcha!' and reveal that they were on live TV or something. Wally didn't care if he was embarrassed. He wanted his brother, his bird.

 _"_ _Dear God bring Robin back, please! I'm sorry I got him killed, please—he's too young. I'll do anything! Anything! Only eat avocado until I die, I'll never ever watch TV again! I-I'll give up….give up my powers. For good. If you bring him back. Please. Please, I'm-I'm sorry."_

Wally felt his feet leave the ground, his body twisted against Roy's waist. The ginger repositioning his arms around his elder brother's neck. Bleary tear filled eyes glanced at the masked face of Roy Harper. He felt awkward, he was eleven. Roy thirteen, the archer shouldn't be carrying him. But it hurt too much, it hurt to move. To breathe. Because Dick wasn't walking beside him. Dick wasn't filling his lungs with air in order to tell another story or joke. Wally had always been with Dick, he felt empty without him. So very empty.

Kid Flash's head rested against Speedy's shoulder, small tears spilling out from under his mask. Roy's hazel eyes had to be smarting with tears, his cheeks tear stained and pale. Like Dick's before he had….left. So pale, a papery white. Death tracing over the once color filled skin. A face that had been sun kissed after days on the beach, soft gentle ivory looking after long Gotham winters and hours in caves. Skin that had flared with red when embarrassed, angered or sick.

So Roy felt dead inside too. Wally knew he looked paler than usual. His freckles would be standing out like pushpins on a map. His cheeks would be cold. But his skin would continue to have life. He would laugh eventually. Far, far in the future he might be able to smile. A real smile. Roy and Dick had managed sad smiles around their parent's anniversaries, maybe Wally could produce one too. But the possibility of actually being happy again, it seemed impossible.

"—let's get you to the tower." The voice of one Tony Stark sounded. Stark had been the one to get Wally unbound. He recognized his voice immediately, the one who had whined about Robin having his tech. Robin's holo-watch was Wayne Tech.

"No." That was Roy. His voice walking the line between string and weak, maybe a foot stepping on either side once in a while. "Where-Where'd you put our brother? I'm not going anyway till I see him."

No, Roy please no. Wally sobbed slightly. He couldn't see that again. Those lifeless hands, ones that always were moving. Always tapping out a rhythm from the piano, fiddling with Bat-a-rangs or widely illustrating a story that was being told. He couldn't lay eyes upon the thin form that sweet, kind caring heart no longer pounded out rhythmically. Wally could feel Roy beginning to walk, his body swaying as the archer moved. Wally pressed his head against the soft fabric of Roy's sleeve, whimpering and closing his eyes.

"Pleas-Please." He begged, feeling Roy's grip tighten on him, a forehead nuzzle the back of his ginger hair. "Please don't make me see him. I can't Roy, I can't." He whispered Speedy's name. Only his brother hearing his final plea.

 **AN) Leave a review below, and tell me. Should I bring in the ever glorious Pepper Potts? Should I have more of Dick's POV from Heaven? Let me know! I love you fanfirends, if you need someone to talk to or rant to PM me.**


	4. Chapter 4

The duo was curled against each other, the younger resting his head against the eldest side, the eldest placing his head atop the younger. They were silent, save a few whimpers and little 'hush' noises coming from them. The archer was tenderly caring for the other, kissing his forehead every few seconds. They kept close, as if they were making sure the other was still there. Her heart broke slightly as the younger slithered his hand against the archer's chest—his fingers scrapping the fabric. The worry upon his face melting away as he must have felt a heartbeat. The elder squeezed his hand. Nuzzling against him. Physical contact was a key to them. As many children would, they drew comfort from each other. The boys were a puzzling case. They claimed to be from another world, another dimension—which to her made sense. But—they claimed to be sidekicks. Working under 'the Flash' and 'Green Arrow'. But neither seemed extremely deadly. Speedy, as the younger called him, had carried a bow. His arrows were very fancy, almost identical to Clint's. Rogers said he had held the bow with authority. And there had been several small—knives of sorts in the bottom of his quiver, a second mask and a round—rather strange looking com unit. But the second child, Kid Flash, he held no weapons. He had been searched, but he was clean. No guns, knives, nothing. Just a bunch of food. The only indication was a slight abnormality. A glitch in his genetic structure. But, their tech couldn't identify it exactly. She was going to have to be wary about the both of them. Kid Flash was an unknown. He could be a weakling or a power-house. Speedy seemed to be bent on revenge. The way he glared at them all. His face seemed to redden when it turned at Clint and her. He would be violent, that seemed to be his way of coping. Revenge. If they truly were superheroes. They would avenge a fallen teammate. It was a shame, that a person so young would be lost. The boy, Robin, couldn't be older than ten. He had selflessly sacrificed himself for his friend. His bravery and loyalty earned him a level of respect in her book. "Hey—"Speedy nudged Kid, the younger's eyes were closed. Natasha would have brushed it off as the boy having cried himself to sleep, but the elder's concern gained her attention. "Hey, Kid." The other's turned to him, Clint looking guiltily, Speedy's voice growing in panic with every word. Kid's face seemed to be pale, his chest was barely moving. Speedy was now shaking him harshly. "Shi—Riddler!" He cried out, looking directly at her. "Please! He needs food!" Steve was the first to move, grabbing a cheese stick Tony had in the Jet's mini fridge, no idea why there was a mini-fridge, but Stark was Stark. Speedy ripped it from Rogers' grasp, tearing into the wrapping. Steve still crouched next to them. "I need someone to take his pulse!" the boy ordered, this time Tasha went next to them. "Not _you."_ He sneered, yes—he hated her too. Bruce was next to her, gently taking the unconscious child's wrist. "I'm a doctor." He spoke calmly, Tasha scooting back, but still watching. Speedy nodded, and began to tear the cheese into chunks. "I need water too." Steve left to comply. "Merlyn, Robin—"He froze, shaking his head. "Robin was better at this." Speedy force feed the cheese, washing it down the child's throat with water. Stark watched from the controls, Clint still hunched over—looking at his feet. Bruce slowly began to count out a heartbeat. Kid Flash seemed to be waking up, his chest began to move more, his eyes fluttered open. He spat up water, Speedy yelping as the spew of water and cheese chunks hit his uniform. "Wha'—"Kid groaned, looking at the crowd around him. "Wha' happened?" "Passed out, calories low." Speedy informed, wiping the spew from his front. Kid groaned. "Finish the cheese." "Are you okay?" Steve asked, Tasha retook her seat. This was an interesting development. A high metabolism. He would need food every few hours. This could be related to the glitch, most likely was. "F-Fine. As I can be." He said, munching on the cheese. A rumble came from his direction, blush burned against his freckles. "You'll need more food soon." The 'Boy Bowman' deadpanned, ruffling the kid's hair lightly. "They cleared you out, didn't they?" Kid Flash nodded, Speedy cursing under his breath. "I forgot to restock. R-Rob had the most rations." "We're going to feed you, you know that right?" Bruce cautioned. Why were they acting like they would have to fend for themselves? Did they usually have to? "I've always been an amazing host. I keep the food and booze flowing." Stark eyes them. "Well—you're a little young for booze, so just the food then." He was trying to defuse the tension, help them cope—bring a little light into the hopeless situation. But it actually came across as crude. "SHUT THE H*** UP!" Speedy was bright red, everyone flinched, he was on his feet "I DON'T GIVE A S*** IF YOU THROW THE BEST DA** GALA IN THE F****** UNIVERSE! I'M FROM MOTHER****ING HICH SOCIETY, AND I KNOW THE DRILL! YADADAD! YOU REALLY DON'T GIVE A S***!" Kid tried to place a hand over the ticked archer's potty mouth—but it was swatted away. "MY BROTHER IS DEAD! MOTHERF****ING DEAD! I COULD CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR F****** HUMOR, I WANT REVENGE! I WANT JUSTICE!" "And you will get justice." Kid spoke softly, everyone turning toward him. "We will get justice for Robin. Not revenge. He doesn't want revenge." He sounded like he was dead inside. Speedy seemed to deflate, his head bouncing down. "I-I'm sorry." Was that a tear? Yes, that was a tear. "I can't do this. Not without _him."_ "I know." Kid Flash stood next to him, holding his arms up for a hug, or to get picked up—which to both his older brother complied. "I can't either."

 ** _Breakline_**

Neither of the kids seemed to be impressed by the tower. Speedy still holding onto Flash kid or whatever, the second kid actually was starting to look pale again. Tony was a little insulted that the boys weren't impressed by his vast tower. He huffed slightly, then jumping as J.A.R.V.I.S. made KF cry.

"A-Agent A!" The boy shouted. His wails drawing the attention of Pepper. "Agent A is going to k-kill me!"

"No he's not."

"I-I-I killed his grandson! H-He's gonna _kill_ me!" The child buried his face against his brother's tunic. Pepper gave him a look, asking who's dead.

"Uhm…Tony?" She asked.

"Hey Pep, uhm…this is Speedy and Kid Flash. They're going to be staying with us."

"Why is Agent A an disembodied voice?"

"I am J.A.R.V.I.S, an A.I. designed to assist Mr. Stark in any way possible."

"He's here to make sure Tony doesn't burn down the tower, or blow up the world."

"I like trying to blow up the world!" Tony protested, Pepper crossed over to Speedy and tried to shake his hand, which was a hard task as Kid took most of the boy's focus and arm to hold. But he managed a firm shake.

"Pepper Potts."

"So—what's your name?" Bruce timidly voiced. "We can't call you Speedy and Kid Flash all the time I mean." He looked a little more cautious as Speedy glared heavily.

"My names William. Willie Allen." Kid—Willie's voice was muffled.

"Raymond Prince. Ray, if you want." Ray's voice was curt, he _hated_ them—Tony could tell.

Another gurgle came from Willie, Pepper raising an eyebrow. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes Ma'am."

She ruffled his hair, and Ray gave her the dirtiest look. That made him mad, Pep hadn't done anything. Tony got why Ray would be ticked at them—the Avengers, but Pepper was innocent. He would definitely have to talk to Ray if he kept acting like that.

"I'll get started on some—say Mac'n'Cheese, and these guys will show you your rooms."

As they were guided them through, toward the bedrooms—Ray was now letting Will walk, but their hands were latched together.

"I don't want you alone with them." He whispered, trying to hide it—but they all heard, Clint's shoulder's sagging even more. "Don't show them, _it_ yet—we may need that for later."

 ** _Breakline_**

He had been filled up with food. He should be good until the morning. But now—he was nestled up in baggy clothes. Roy had freaked once more—when they were offered the _murderer's_ clothes to wear until they could get civvies.

Roy. Roy was his only help now. Dickie was gone. Wally blinked, tears wanting to come undone. This sucked. Dickie—was dead. He couldn't see Uncle Barry. There was an A.I. that sounded like Alfred. And Wally couldn't even be Wally. He had to be William Ryan Allen, and he couldn't even talk to Roy. He had to go to Raymond Zachary Prince.

Robin made contingence names for them. Robin himself was Christopher Mark Francis. But that alias would never be used again. Wall—Willie, he might as well get used to being Willie—looked around the room. He wanted _his_ room. With the posters, and his dad's snoring from down the hall. And the bathroom facet that dripped after Wally got his midnight drink. He didn't need the lights of New York City.

A terrified scream ripped into his ears, Roy—or Ray now. It took all of his restraint to speed over to Roy, but he couldn't let _them_ know—not just yet. So instead, he moved as fast as Robin would.

Roy was still in his sheets, bucking about—like he was trying to fight someone off. Other people poured into the room, but Wally was at Roy's side first.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot him!" Ray sobbed, knocking Wally away. The adults tried their hand. But the teen struck at them too—kicking wildly. "NO!" A scream shook everyone to the bone. Now there were tears, Roy sobbed—jerking a little less. Wally climbed in the bed next to him, watching as the now damp mask showed he was awake. Roy met his eyes, and pulled him against the chest.

Wally could feel the tears against his neck, and he was warmed. Wally hugged him back. And they fell asleep like that. Holding onto each other, protecting each other. As they failed to do for their baby brother.

 ** _Breakline_**

Blood was spattered across the gloves, eyes were blinking rapidly. The machinery was still silent. Voices milled numbly about him, but the doctor paid no mind.

It had been a good seven hours since the boy had been brought in. They knew what to do this time, but—it was only their second time preforming such a surgery. And their patient, was so young this time. But the doctor's hands were steady.

His assistant brought over the new tool he called for. And there—a sigh passed his lips. He should—he should be okay. The tiniest blimp on the heart monitor picked up. A cheer rushing through the doctors and nurses. He was alive. He would need to rest, but with the medicine—you know what? Dr. Carter didn't like it.

The patient was a child. It was all an accident, but to put the boy on healing serums? Fury was losing it. He wanted the boy to be functional for—testing. Yes, this kid was from another dimension—but he was a child. Marcus Carter had a son, how would he feel if Lynn was stuck where ever this poor boy had come from—and he was being tested on? But there was nothing Marcus could do, he watched as the boy's chest began to fill with air, the steady rhythm becoming stronger.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. James." He felt bad about sending the kid to a testing without giving him a name for his family to pray for. "It'll be okay, I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN) Hey! I forgot about this story, thanks to Guest for reminding me! Here we go!**

There was something on his chest. He groaned, shifting around slightly. There was something on his arms too. He tried to sit up, but the things on his chest kept him down. He tried harder, he was probably tied down—that had happened before….ow! His chest hurt! W-why was it hurting? He was in heaven, why would it….why would he be tied to his bed in heaven?

He wouldn't. That was the answer. He wasn't in heaven anymore. Where—where was he? He opened his eyes, panic worming its way all over him. He couldn't feel his mask—he didn't care if he was mask-less in heaven—but he wasn't there anymore. The first thing he saw was a dark gray. Most likely the ceiling, he was strapped down on his back. Looking side to side, he took in the bare room. There was a stiff looking chair to his right, an IV stand connecting with a tube and his wrist. Now that he was more observant, a plastic oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth. He pulled in a sip of air, couching slightly.

He heard the soft _beep_ of a heart monitor. He was surrounded by medical equipment. Tubes were sticking into him, but he was so used to it. He was decked in a pale yellow hospital smock.

A terrible thought struck him. Was he…. _alive_ again? Living? Breathing? Heart-beating? Now, that wasn't so terrible to most—but his parents! His family! They weren't alive, and he was! He had been….dead. Dead but with them. True, he did miss Wally and Roy and Daddy—but still. He longed to see his mother smile, to be carried around on his father's shoulders. He wanted _them._ Aunt Diana's wide smiles weren't as pretty as Mami's. Uncle Clark and Daddy gave great piggy-back rides, but they weren't as good as Tati was at it.

Why didn't anything good work for him?! Why couldn't he just be happy? Why did he have to leave them again? Mami smiled so prettily, Tati spun him around. They told him everything he wanted to hear them say, at least one last time.

 _I love you….I'm proud of you….My son….Oh Dickie you're so brave…..You fly my prihor…You've been so strong Dickie….so kind…so loving….I love you…..We love you…._

Tears were hitting his pillow at odd angles. He tried to sit up, straining against the bonds that held him. The _beep_ of the monitor had intensified. It was racing now. And people were racing about him.

A tall man with square glass leaned over him. Bags were heavy under his eyes, his brown hair looked greasy, like he hadn't showered. His matching brown eyes scanned over him.

"James, James I need you to calm down." He spoke evenly. "James, you're still weak—you need to calm down."

The words made no sense. Calm? How could he be calm? He wasn't with his parents! He wasn't with Daddy! DADDY! He wanted Daddy! Daddy would make it okay, Daddy would make it stop—the pain in his chest. Daddy would whisper all the words he needed to hear. Daddy would hold him just the right way, Daddy would trace just the right symbol on his palm. Daddy….Daddy would be enough.

But he wasn't with Daddy. No one was with him. He lost Roy and Wally. Nobody could help him. Not Uncle Clark, not Uncle Barry. Nor Aunt Dinah. Uncle Arthur couldn't sing in Atlantian. Uncle John couldn't play just the right memory. Aunt Diana couldn't tell him myths, and Uncle Hal couldn't talk about space and the planets.

U-Uncle Hal—Uncle Hal had talked about how he handled fear—he said his oath. He said it and said it, until he felt strong. Daddy said it was stupid of Uncle Hal—but Daddy also said Uncle Hal could be very brave—if he wasn't acting like a fool or trying to impress Aunt Diana or some lady named Carol.

It started under his breath, most words being mouthed and a few whispered. The voices around him softened, as he focused on the words—the voices owners straining to hear him. The brown haired man blinked leaning down further to hear what was being said.

"I-In brightest day in blackest night no evil shall escape my sight, for those who worship evils might beware my power; Green Lantern's light." He breathed out, using the exercises Daddy and Aunt Dinah taught him. "În ziua strălucitoare, în noaptea întunecată. Nici un rău nu va scăpa înaintea mea pentru cei care se închină puterea răului - feriți-vă puterea mea; Green Lantern lumina lui." He murmured stronger, peace slowly finding him as he spoke in his native tongue.

He needed to calm down. If he was scared, if he was panicked, if he was angry he wouldn't think clear. He wouldn't be able to protect himself.

"James?" The man asked again. "Are you calm now James?" He nodded. "My name is Marcus Carter. I want you to call me Dr. Carter when we're with other agents. "Dr. Carter's voice was soft, whispering the last phrase almost inaudibly. "You need to stay calm James—"

"My name's not James."

"Alright." The doctor nodded, taking a seat in the chair. "What is your name?"

"Robin." Duh.

Marcus nodded, rubbing his eyes—like he was trying to stay awake. "Robin, you know you've recently died?" Robin nodded. That had hurt like heck, but at least Wally was okay.

"W-Where are my brothers?"

"I don't know." He tried to sit up, Marcus stopping him. "But I promise you, S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of them."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"The organization I work for, you're in our base now. We were able to bring you back, just barely."

"I didn't want to come back." Tears pricked at his eyes. Marcus' eyes softened.

"What?"

"I-I was with my p-parents." He gulped, forcing down tears. Taking a beat to calm his tears. "Why couldn't I s-stay with them?"

 ** _Breakline_**

Marcus just stayed into the big blue eyes. This child, Robin, wanted to be…dead. He wanted to be with his family. And that was heartbreaking. His parents were dead. Now, it seemed even crueler to take him back into the living world. When he was happy with them.

The little boy held back tears, Marcus smiled softly—hesitantly rubbing his hair.

"Stop." He commanded. Marcus pulled is hand away. "N-No touching my hair. Only D-Daddy." Robin froze. He blinked a few times, then began to thrash around again.

"Robin, stop it." Dr. Carter forced the boy to stop, but he continued to buck about. "Son, your heart isn't ready to handle this much stress."

"Let me go!" He shouted, twisting under the straps on his wrists. Marcus didn't want him to be tied down, but he was being viewed as a threat. "I n-need to get home, Daddy's worried a-about me!"

This! This is what Dr. Carter had said! They needed to get him _home._ Not use him as a hostage, not use him as a test subject, and get him home. He had a family, he had friends. He might be an intruder on their base—but he was still a child. Hadn't the fact that he died for his friends shown his character?

Robin kept trying to get up, Marcus kept trying to calm him down.

"Dr. Carter." A voice called to him. He looked up.

"A little help here Meredith?" He joked, the dark haired agent nodding. She saw his side of things. Meredith Carter-Newsome agreed with her father.

"Robin—"She said sweetly, placing a hand against his chest. His crystal blue eyes darted up to hers. His breath caught, staring up at her. "Sweetie, take a deep breath please." Slowly he pulled a breath in through his mask. "Very good. My name is Agent Newsome. I'm going to take you to meet my boss, Director Fury—alright?" He nodded thinly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She nodded, Marcus feeling part of his gut drop as guards surrounded him. Heavy hands wrapped around the boys shoulders, keeping his still as they released him. Pulling him up of the medical table. Robin struggled a little, as thick shackles were hung around his wrist. A thick collar strung around his neck.

They dragged him away, Robin twisting under their grip—he looked back, Marcus saw the fear in his eyes. He tried to get back to the doctor. Robin felt like something was wrong. He was nervous.

"No!" He tried to get back to….her. His eyes were on Meredith. "N-No! Donna, Donna please!"

Donna? Did his daughter remind him a friend from back home? The guard forced him to look forward. Marcus feeling rage burning underneath his skin.

"I know Dad." She sighed, looking sadly after the boy. "I know he's just a kid, I know. But he and those other two got on the Helicarrier somehow. He could be a threat."

"Mer," He used her pet name. "I can't do this in good conscience. What happens when we get him home? The people who loved him there would be outraged! He was dressed like a hero, do we really want heroes mad at us?"

"Dad, we will take care of him. I will, you will—Ethan will. Robin will get home safely—but for now we just—"

"Go along with it? What if they hurt him? Meredith, if Lynn was in his world."

"Dad." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll make sure they treat him like Lynn. I've got to go, love you Dad." She leaned up and pecked his cheek. "I'll see you at dinner tomorrow."

She headed out, "Tell your husband to comb the dog." She laughed, waving slightly.

 ** _Breakline_**

He glared at the man before him. Trying to keep the panic in him from showing. He didn't have his mask. He needed his mask. The director took a seat behind his desk. Robin was offered a seat with a wave of a hand, but he didn't take it.

"Have a seat." Fury gestured again.

"No." Robin deadpanned.

"I'm just here for a friendly chat." Fury shrugged, "take a seat."

"I'd rather not." He shrugged. "I'm not here for a chat. I kind of want to get home, it's Italian day and Grandpa makes some killer Alfreno sauce."

Fury stood up again, reaching to force Robin to sit. He smirked, jumping up—pulling his cuffed hands from his back to his front.

"Son, this is not the time for games." Robin smirked, letting his façade take over.

"When you're at my skill level this whole thing is a game." Fury actually stepped around the desk. Robin jumped over his desk, flipping into the director's seat. With a twist the handcuffs were gone. He leaned back in the chair, kicking his feet up on the desk.

"Huh." He laughed at Fury's glare. "Listen Nick, I can call you Nick right? Well Nicky—my name is Robin, and if you don't connect that name to Batman you've been living under a rock. And if you don't connect Batman with pain and fear—well you do now. And if Batman also doesn't connect with the Justice League, you're a fool." He took his feet of the desk. "I'm fairly certain you know all those names, and you know what _I_ mean to them, I'm kind of a big deal Nick. So if you just surrender, I'll but in a good word for you. Even better if I can get a sandwich. I'm thinking, white bread, no crusts. Oh, and toast the bread please—the jelly gets it all soggy. With bananas in the middle." Fury looked like he was about to murder him, Robin smirked—this was fun. "Cut them into triangles, I don't so squares. Alright, get on that."

Fury shook his head, starting for an agent. Taking the tablet Fury was handed, he walked back to Robin. His blue eyes widened. He scanned the pages Nick was showing him.

 _Batman—no results found._

 _The Justice League—no results found._

 _Robin—a bird._

 _Batman and Robin—no results found._

His heart beat stopped. He felt the color leave him. Staring at the final screen. His DNA, he….didn't exist.

Hands grabbed at him, catching his underarms. He was picked up from the director's chair. Shoved into the one across the desk. But he couldn't feel it—where was he?

"Why so quiet?" Nick asked, a thin nearly invisible smile playing at his mouth. "I thought you were a big deal. Wherever you're from. But here—you don't exist. So, the deal you are—is a dangerous one. Anything else you want besides a sandwich before we get started?"

His mouth dry, Robin felt the tears slip. He brought his eyes down on the new handcuffs. Why him?

"I-I want to know where my friends are."

Nick looked at him, Robin wasn't going to beg if that's what he wanted.

"Your friends are gone." He was about to protest. "We moved them. Now, they're safe—as long as you work with us." So that was their game. "And if you work with us, I can tell you more. Anything else you'd like to say?"

He grinded his teeth. "Yeah. My dad's gonna kick your sorry butt to Central City and back."

 **AN) Well, tada! I hope I didn't OC Nick too much or at all. If any of you huge Marvel fans can tell me yay or nay that would be great. So…Robin's alive and S.H.I.E.L.D. wants information. So…see you guys next time!**

 **Spot: My goil Robbie is goning ta da capital, Washington DC Monday, so Imma nervouse and happy at da same time. Good luck doll!**

 **ME: That's Spot. My inner voice. Well, Alexander Hamilton/ Lin-Manual Miranda are too, but he's sleeping—so big brother Spot took over. If you don't know Spot Collins look up Newsies people. I'm a musical fanatic!**

 **Spot: She really is. *little whimpers from a crib* crap, da baby kids up! *Alexander cries***

 **Alex: I wanna wite! Wite! Wite!**

 **Me: Oh Alex, come on—I'll rap for you.**

 **Spot: *Gesturing at Me and Alex* See what I hafta live with Firecracker? They're driven' me mad.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN) Two updates in one day!**

The boy shed a few tears. The shock of finding out that he didn't exist hitting him hard. Fury folded his hands in front of his face. Watching as the boy managed to spit a phrase out.

"Yeah. My dad's gonna kick your sorry butt to Central City and back." Such venom in the kid's voice.

"I'm sure he will. Now, I've got some questions for you."

"Like I'd tell you anything."

"Young man, I am not your enemy—unless you make me."

Fire flickered in his eyes. "How can I trust you? How do I know you're not working for Lex Luther? Or Slade didn't hire you? Or Brainiac?"

"Those are your villains?" He nodded curtly. "I've never heard of them. You're mask-less, and I'm not taking pictures or showing you that I know who you are. You'll have to trust me."

He shifted, lifting up his cuffed hands. "Uncuff me and you have an hour of my trust."

Nick couldn't help but laugh slightly. "Son, you came into my base—highly secured—and you think I'm going to let you run free. Those are staying on until I know what you are."

"Get the agents outside and I'll give you an hour and fifteen minutes trust." He fired back right away. "You can call them back in if I get violent. And if they leave, I'll stay seated."

Fury paused considering the option. This was a kid, he could take care of himself. And the boy sounded serious. He wasn't getting anywhere like this.

"And how can I trust you?"

"I swear on the honor of Haly's circus. My childhood home, where my parents took their final breath and where their legend was built." This kid was serious.

Fury got the guards out. The boy relaxed slightly.

"Why so tense?"

"I just died, I'm back. Not exactly normal. The last time I was cuffed and answering question with guards it ended in a lot of blood, pantsing, and curse words my mami wouldn't like. And I'll tell you, my gloves still had blood stains after my butler washed 'em."

He sighed, this kid was a nightmare. "How old are you kid?"

"Nine, how old are you?" He asked, a devilish smirk now playing at his face.

"Why—"

"No, you ask—I ask. That's how talking works Nicky."

 _"_ _One two three four five six seven eight nine ten."_

"You're to call me Director Fury." The kid shrugged.

"How old are you? You look old, not as old as my butler but still old.

"Classified."

"Can I say classified?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the director. I have more rights than you." The boy pouted for a second while Nick fired his second question. "What's your name?"

"Robin, duh. I told you."

Nick sighed, why did this kid talk so much? He had died the day before. He had just discovered he wasn't in his world anymore? Wasn't this kid in shock?

Yes. Yes. Robin was in shock. He felt tired. He was weak, he had died for crying out loud. That whole bit with him jumping over desks and escaping handcuffs was tiring.

He was trying to hide his panic, his fear. Like Daddy did with his mean scary emotionless mask—he hide behind a sarcastic annoying little kid like mask. He could tell Nick was getting annoyed. That made him happy, until he wasn't allowed to say classified. That word was fun. _Classified, classified, classified, classified, classified, classi—_

Wait….he asked for his name. Oh heck no.

"Robin, duh. I told you." He was not giving up his ID. He already gave up Donna's, he didn't care if it was a different universe or not. If he got here, Two-Face could get here and then Robin's world would screech to a dangerous halt. It would end….again.

"Your real name." Fury demanded.

"My mami named me Robin."

"As a nickname!" Ha-ha, yes he yelled.

"How did you know?" He gasped. Fury clenched his hand in a fist. It looked like he was counting to ten in his head. Heh, Daddy did that a lot. So did Alfie.

"Fine, you talk about a butler, what does he call you?"

Taking in a deep breath Robin shouted in hid best Alfred voice. "Good heavens Master Robin, how on God's green earth did you get in the chandelier? My word, I will get your father! You are not supposed to wear your cape around the house! Why? It could catch fire up there young sir!"

Nick looked so close to head slamming on his desk. Robin couldn't help but laugh.

"You think this is funny? Let me tell you, until I get answers, until I know who you are—what you are, you're not seeing your friends." Robin felt his laugh die. He—He couldn't be serious. "You'll be in my care, working for me—am I clear?"

He nodded sourly. If he wanted to see Wally again, he needed to cooperate. Even if it was fake.

"My name's Christopher Malone." He whispered, going for the scared kid route now. "M-My grandpa calls me Chris."

"How did you get here, Chris?" He said the name skeptically.

"I-I was with Daddy in the League's base with m-my friends."

"What are their names?"

"Willie Allen a-and Ray Prince. W-We were messing with old t-teleportation tech a-and one of them was working and i-it hit us and sent us here. I don't know why, that's all I know honest!" That's what _all_ the baddies said when he and Daddy talked to them. They weren't good talkers, until Daddy got really mean. Robin didn't like it when his dad was mean—his dad was really nice.

Daddy would be so worried. He would be extra mean until Robin was found. Oh, and Uncle Barry would be running around real upset and Uncle Ollie and Auntie Dinah would be concerned about Roy.

"Please, I just want to go home."

He had never spoken truer words.

"And you'll get home. Do you understand the technology you were playing with?" He helped build it! Of course he understood it! Daddy explained it, had him take apart a zeta port and rebuild it in the Batcave. He nodded shyly. "Then you'll be building it." The director stood up.

Agent Newsome was back, she stood next to Robin, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was okay, she looked like Donna. Nick was telling her to take him to some medical room, 35-b or something. He should've been paying more attention. But his mind was already working. Not on how to build a zeta, but on how to get out of here.

He didn't trust Nick Fury or S.H.I.E.L.D., not one bit. He had to get out of here, away from them. Those people, that Captain America person, he seemed trust worthy. He reminded him of Uncle Clark—Captain viewed him as a kid, while Nick might see that physically, he treated Robin like a criminal. And Robin was a threat, but he'd rather be with people who treated him like a kid first, 'cause in all reality—he was just a kid.

"Come on Sweetie." Newsome helped him stand. "Follow me."

"Remember Mr. Malone." Director Fury called, Robin shyly looking back at him—he needed to keep the little kid act up. "Your actions determine your friends' safety."

He nodded. Sick, sick man. If he hurt Wally or Roy—Robin would break the rule. He wouldn't let them get hurt, so he had to go along with it. But he would get away—those 'Avengers' people would be safer than Fury—even if one of them had killed him. He might be able to butter them up with his little kid persona better than he had Fury. They might help him find his brothers. If Wally and Roy were cuffed and collared too he would beat the snot out of every agent. Well—he glanced up at Agent Newsome, maybe not her.

 ** _Breakline_**

Ray peeled his eyelids back, groaning under Wally's weight. He nudged the boy, Wally whining.

"Dude, get up."

"Don't wanna. Just wanna sleep. Maybe if I sleep long enough Dickie will c-come back."

Oh he just had to break Ray's heart all over again didn't he? "Willie, he can't come back."

"….I know." Willie sat up slightly. "Do you think…that when we get home he'll be there?" Ray shrugged, but he was interested. "Like since we're in a new universe his death…doesn't count?"

"Maybe. You know what, let's hope it does." He shifted his legs over the side of the bed. Holding out his hand for Willie to take it. "You need to eat."

Willie wrapped his hand around Ray's. They held on tightly. They just needed to be close now. Dickie always was holding someone's hand or riding on their shoulders or giving hugs. They had gotten so used to physical contact it was normal to hold hands while walking around the Watchtower, even when walking to the ice cream parlor in Star.

Ray sent a withering glare at the murderer. Willie drew closer to his big brother. Roy Harper hid behind Ray Prince's rage. Roy couldn't get that image out of his mind. He saw Wally freeze, panic stopping him as an arrow whizzed through the air. Wally tried to grab it, like his uncle could—but he was too slow. Roy saw Dick slam into Wally. He saw Wally fall to the ground, he saw the fear encase emerald eyes and a scream form against his face. He saw Dick's blood, he saw Dick's cheeks pale and he could feel—he could still feel Dick's heart stop beating.

He looked at the man with such hatred. As he had before, on his own reflection in the orphanage. Roy Harper wasn't a happy kid—he got angry, the media knew he and Ollie had tense moments, they were disappointed he didn't call Oliver 'Dad' like Dick Grayson called Bruce Wayne 'Daddy'. He just….he had attitude issues and he knew it. Dickie had helped him with them, reminding him to smile—Dick was basically his emotional impulse control—and now that he was gone….

Roy also knew Wally was hurting. Wally had been so much closer to Dick. They played together constantly—online or in person. They talked about everything, they knew everything about each other. Wally didn't have many friends in his school, Roy knew. Dick was his truest friend, besides Roy—and suddenly he was gone. Roy could see the shock in Wally's eyes—as he had hoped that when they got back to their world Dick would still be alive and well. Wally just wasn't ready to give up hope—Roy didn't want to either, but he knew Dick was dead….just dead.

He also knew that Dick was Wally's physical impulse control, he kept him from doing stupid things. Roy didn't have that effect without yelling at him, and Roy didn't want to hurt his only remaining brother.

"Good morning boys." Banner nodded, spread butter on his toast. The 'Avengers' were scattered throughout the kitchen getting their own breakfasts. Roy was about to snap, 'what's good about it' when Wally tugged on his sleeve.

"Do they have English muffins?" He asked.

"Yeah." Steve held up the bag. "I'll make one for you."

"Thanks."

Roy gestured for Wally to take a seat at the barstool—two away from the murderer. There was a stiff silence, only chewing sounds. Roy instructed Wally to stay, heading over to grab his fresh English muffins.

"Are you feeling better Ray?" Steve asked softly. Roy looked into his eyes—the looked just like Dickie's.

 _"_ _Roy, come on! Daddy said we could watch a movie, let's watch The Princess Bride!"_

"Ray?" Steve asked, Roy snapped himself out of it. He thought he might be blushing.

"Sorry, I'm an l-little better I guess." He was still staring at those eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"You—you have his eyes." He whispered. Steve taking the plate from his now shaking hand. He was going down. "Dear god you have his eyes."

 **AN) So, what happens next? Will Wally and Roy find out their brother is alive? Will Roy ever forgive himself or Clint? Will Robin be able to trust Fury, and Fury trust him?**

 **Spot: Who knows? Da kids are in big trouble dis time folks—but aren't dey always?**

 **Alex:*Toddling in with picture book*Wead! Wead! Spot wead! *Spot facepalms***

 **Spot: Alexander's kinda da new baby budder. Robbie's like our momma. She pays mor' attention ta him den me and da bois 'cause he's young 'nd stuff. Firecracker, da kid likes da rap. I can't stand da stuff. But he likes it fast 'nd he gives it a go himself. Robbie adores da tyke. Bella, coulda please update ya story? I need somethin udder than 'Green Eggs 'nd Ham' ta read. I'm beggin' ya doll.**

 **Alex:*waving* Bye-Bye! Spot, wead! Ham want more Bella's stowy!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN) Hey guys! Sorry for the delay! I went to rehearsal last night, walked in blaring 'What'd I Miss' from Hamilton like the nerd I am. I missed two weeks in a row, so people were surprised to see me. I killed my scenes though. I'm Violet. Violet Beruguard. It's Willy Wonka!**

He was doubled over on the kitchen floor, shoulders shaking. They didn't know what to do. Willie was trying to get him to stop, wiping tears off his face. But Ray couldn't stop crying. He just knelt there, head in his hands, shouting out nonsense words. His brother holding onto his neck, arms around his back.

There it was again, the deep feeling of hatred. For himself, the gut wrenching helpless feeling he had. This had happened before—so many times.

 _He tried to get him to look up. Ignoring the pain in his knee, Dad had too much to drink._

 _"_ _Barney, come on Barney." He shook him. He could hear the faint crying sounds from his curled up brother. "Dad's gonna hear and get mad again."_

 _"_ _Dad left Clint, just walked out the door." Barney growled. "Look what he did to you." He tenderly touched the new bruises. Clint flinched slightly. "I should've stopped him."_

 _"_ _You couldn't have done anything!" Clint protested, his older brother running a hand through his short blond hair._

 _"_ _Yes I could've, I'm older, bigger, stronger. I'm supposed to protect you."_

Older brothers were supposed to protect their younger brothers. Ray hadn't, he had tried so hard to keep Robin alive. Just like Barney had taken the blame for all the trouble Clint got into, like Barney had put himself between Clint and their dad. It was always Barney protecting Clint—so that night, when Clint protected Barney, the fear was real. Barney had to watch as Clint was hurt. He had felt guilty since he couldn't protect his baby brother. Maybe Robin would usually protect Ray, or maybe Willie protected them all—but now, the one-time where Robin protected both of them—the guilt and fear was real, since Robin wouldn't be coming back.

Clint sat there, trying to block out Ray crying. The teen wailed, suddenly grabbing onto Steve. The soldier slowly returned the hug. Bruce crouching down next to him with a gentle hand on his back.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so—so sorry." He whimpered, staring straight into Steve's eyes. "Rob—please I'm sorry."

Steve held him even closer, Willie squeezing him insanely.

"Ray, come on." He lifted his freckled face to Bruce. "Do you have a training room?"

"Yeah."

"Can we use it? Please? It'll help him calm down." Bruce hesitated. But he nodded.

"You'll need adult supervision though."

"I'll go with them." Steve helped Ray stand, the poor kid's face was ashen white.

Willie draped his brother's arm over his shoulder. Ray leaning down and kissing his forehead. Willie blushed, nudging his brother with his hip.

"Let's train a bit. Run through the workout Rob set up for us." The freckled boy shrugged.

"N-No using _it_ though." Ray demanded. "I-I'm never touching one of _them_ again."

Willie froze, he panted slightly—tears in his eyes he looked up at his brother. Turning he faced Clint. His eyes said it all.

 _Look what you've done._

There was a sinking feeling in his gut as Steve and their wards excited, Willie moving stiffly, Ray almost melting on him.

"What'd I miss?" Tony slurred. He was in a grubby t-shirt, oil making his hair stick up at odd angles. Another long night in the lab for him.

"Ray had a meltdown." Tony flinched. "Steve's eyes must look like Robin's, he started crying uncontrollably."

"Where they off to now?"

Clint gulped before speaking. "Steve's taking them to the training room, letting R-Ray burn off some steam."

Tony nodded, filling up his coffee mug. He looked at his depressed teammate. "Man, this wasn't your fault. It was instinct, it was an accident."

"Tony he's dead!" Clint banged his hand on the table. Bruce and Tony froze, staring nervously at him. "Tony, he's like—eight!" Clint stood up. "He's never gone to high school, he's never gone on a date. Tony he never got to kiss a girl, Bruce he never got to go to college. God, he's gone!" He collapsed. Feeling arms wrap around him. He was overwhelmed by her scent. Nat, she run fingers through his hair. "All I've done is kill people! I've been controlled! I was the villain, I SHOT MY OWN BROTHER!"

"You're a hero." Tony demanded. "I've killed too, we do what we have to do to get the job done."

"This wasn't a job!" He roared, anger booming in his voice. "This wasn't a mission or anything, this was a young man's life! Tony, I killed someone else's brother. Ray, Willie—they lost their brother! When I shot Barney, I never left his side—he got better. I was able to hug him and—and….Ray held his brother as he _died._ "

He brushed Nat off him, pacing around the kitchen. "What if you were there when your parents died…?"

"Stop." Tony growled.

"If you were there, you could've saved them." The coffee mug in his hand broke. "But you weren't, you couldn't have done anything." He looked reassuringly at his friend, Bruce practically holding him back until Tony got where Clint was going with this. "Ray was right there, he had the arrow out—he was trying to save Robin, and he couldn't. But he could've. You know the guilt you feel? That all of us feel? It's worse for Ray—a thousand times worse for Willie. Ray was there to do something, Willie was the reason his brother died. That guilt is killing them, and their just kids."

He sank back down in his chair, a stiff silence overtaking the room. Clint felt the gnawing grief in his stomach, he crossed his arms over it. Sighing, he tipped his head back, eyes closed. Robin was so little, but he was so strong. To save his brother—but he shouldn't have been in the position he was in in the first place.

"Who am I to play 'God'? Who are any of us?" He mumbled. "If we kill to get the job done, are we really doing the world a favor?"

 ** _Breakline_**

"Agent Newsome." He smiled politely, nodding at him. "Who's your little friend?"

"This is Christopher Malone." She taped his shoulder lightly. Robin nodded.

"Hey Chris," the agent offered his hand out, Robin gingerly shaking it. "I'm Agent Coulson."

"Hi." He whispered. Coulson giving the faintest smile, until he looked at his wrists.

"What's with the cuffs?"

"You're stupid director thinks I'm some sort of threat. I mean I am, but not unless you're a baddie." He clarified.

"Chris is one of the boys who got on the Helicarrier."

"Big whoop, you guys should try getting into the Watchtower. Can I talk about _difficult_? The zeta's scan for DNA, but first I had to get past my butler, then my dad's security system in the cave. Oh boy, hiding from a guy with x-ray vision and a telepath was sooo much harder than necessary."

He stopped rambling at the confusing looks he was getting. He smirked. "The security in this place is nothing compared to the Justice League's. _I_ helped design it." He said proudly, Coulson giving a considerate note.

"Which is yeah, you'll be working with the tech department." Great Scott! How the heck to Fury sneak up on him?!

"A kid in the tech department? Are you sure that's the best idea?" Oh heck yeah it was! Rob could make some new weapons since that's taken all of his, and he could mess with the security system to escape.

"I'm an inventor." He rolled his eyes. "I work with Batman, we make our own gas pellets and grappling hooks. Green Arrow taught me how to make exploding arrows and Wonder Woman promised I could make a sword for my tenth birthday." He shrugged, giving the wicked grin he had shared with Nick to Coulson. "I should be okay."

Coulson still looked a little unconvinced, but before Robin could counter any more, a bubbling yawn burst out of him. He was tired, he just wanted to sleep.

"I'll take him to his quarters." Newsome gently grabbed his elbow.

"Peace Coulson." He gave a small wave from his cuffed hand.

Meredith walked him farther away from her boss, giving them a little privacy before he asked the question. She didn't know why, but it felt to her the Christopher wasn't his real name. He had called her 'Donna', most likely a friend from his world. And with his reluctance to share his name, he might not want many people to know about her either.

"Who's Donna?" She whispered. Chris flinched slightly, glancing up at her.

"…She's like my big sister. Wonder Woman's protégé, she's awesome." He smiled to himself. "Second protégé to be made public. Speedy was second, then KF."

"Who was first?"

"I was." He beamed. "I got to join when I was eight." He sounded so proud. "The League didn't like how little I was—thought I was too weak. Proved them wrong, kicked their butts and saved the world. No need to thank me."

He sounded so cocky, put it almost sounded fake. Like he was trying to hide behind his outgoing-ness to keep safe.

"I miss Donna, she had to go back to the island three weeks ago. We were supposed to meet up today, I'm glad we didn't. She would've gone all Amazon warrior on everyone after I…died."

"We'll get you back home. I promise."

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath. "Like Fury will give me away that easily."

"Director Fury is a good man." She couldn't help but defend him. "Sometimes he's just a little hard to understand."

He scoffed, pulling his arm away from her grip. "So he's like Lex Luthor. Gives a good face to the public, but runs his own agenda behind their backs. I don't like Luthor." There was venom in his gaze. "He's tried to have my dad killed, both in costume and as a civilian. I _hate_ Alexander Joseph Luthor with a passion. He, Zucco and the Joker would be the ones I'd _kill."_

Her eyes widened slightly. To hear a nine-year-old talking about killing people was unsettling. Luckily for her, she reached the room she was supposed to drop him off in. With a harried goodbye, she all but shoved him in.

Robin rolled his eyes—he was done with this world and he'd only been there a day. And had been dead for most of it! Maybe that's while he was done, they killed him here.

His room was pretty basic. A cot like bed, a little lamp on a bedside table. There was a small dresser which on his inspection contained a few changes of clothes. What irked him was that the clothes looked like one's from a prison. S.H.I.E.L.D's symbol was printed on the sleeve of the shirt, and on the front above his heart as a security number. I reminded him of Arkham's prison ware. But his clothes were a dark nay blue instead of neon orange.

There was an IV drip set up next to his bed, and also a heart monitor. Pretty basic stuff. Robin didn't like them, the few times Alfred had to change to drip he had to sing the kitty song or Dick would have a panic attack.

He hummed it under his breath, as he checked for any bugs. There was one under the lamp shade—he gingerly picked it up.

"HI UNCLE NICK!" He screamed into it. Then, crushing it between his thumb and finger. He liked his privacy. There weren't any cameras inside, but there was one outside the door. Also, not air vents. There was a small one, maybe three inches big, where the floor met the wall—no way he could fit through there.

Robin shrugged and climbed in the bed, might as well sleep of the death lag.

He didn't know how long he was out, but when he woke up there was a sandwich sitting on his nightstand. White bread, no crusts, toasted with bananas in-between the Peanut Butter and the jelly. A small sticky note on the plate caught his eye.

'For the 'Big Deal'.

"Ha-ha-ha Fury." He growled, scooting the sandwich away. He hated it when baddies were sarcastic back. That was his job!

 **AN) Shot-out to IbeWildBella who drew art for Renegade! I love it Bella! Please update, Spot's begging me! Anyway, band camp starts Monday. It lasts two weeks. I get to stay in town but I'm crazy busy! Bye my fan friends!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN) Sorry for the delay! I've been going to band camp 8am-1pm, then having rehearsal from 5pm-10pm and getting up at 6:30. I've been so busy! Well, here's an update!**

The kid gave him a huge smirk, he held up his screwdriver, turning back to whatever he was working on. He always worked through lunch break, so Phil had taken to bringing in something for the kid and taking his lunch with him.

Chris had been working for a week. Every agent, doctor or scientist that came in contact with him became his friend. He was a balance of skittish, embracive and hilarious. He knew his stuff too, the tech he was assembling as a work of art. He wasn't just good around the lab, the only person who could match his fighting skills was Agent Romanova.

Phil enjoyed his company. He was still a child, he told jokes—but he had a view on the world and an understanding of life not many kids his age had. He was working with computer chips, framing them together. Large bags were under his eyes, he had been pulling late nights in his assigned lab.

"Hey Phil." He nodded, jotting something down in his notepad. Another part he would need to complete this 'teleportation pad' as he called it. "Hold this a sec." He forced a wire into Phil's hand, hooking it together with another wire. "Thanks."

"Lunchbreak." He deadpanned. Taking away the screwdriver. Chris pouted for a second, before peeking into his lunch sack. Phil kind of felt like a dad when he got lunch. He made up a sandwich or something and grabbed a bag of chips or apple and gave it to the kid in a brown paper back from the breakroom. "Make progress today?"

Chris shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich. "In theory it would work. Still need a good enough particle transmitter. The subdivision on this one's like an inch off. Which can be deadly." He warned, stifling a yawn.

"When did you leave the lab last night?" The boy shrugged.

"Maybe past midnight. I know Dr. Carter wasn't too happy about it. I don't care—more I work sooner I get home. And the m—"He stopped, opting to take a bite from his orange slice.

The more he learned about his friends. It was a reward system. When Chris made progress he got the vaguest information about Ray and Willie. What was Phil supposed to tell him today? That he'd see them once the 'zeta tube' was done? How much longer would that answer satisfy him? His eyes looked almost empty every time his friends…no, his brothers were mentioned. He wanted to see them so badly.

"Could….I see them ahead of schedule?" He begged. "Just a video call, or something! Could I see a recording of them? I just want to know they're okay…they think I'm—dead."

"I don't know Chris." Phil sighed. "Fury hasn't said anything to—"

"Joker Venom Fury!" He shouted, throwing the screwdriver he was messing with. It bounced off the wall. He glared at it, balling his fists up. "He's a mudblood mortal son of an Ivy who needs to go to Helheim and shut the Venom up!"

He sat there, vibrating in anger. Electric rage bouncing in his eyes. He was also prone to outbursts, guards had to restrain him. The only one who could get him under control was Agent Newsome. Chris had told him his temper came from being coped up. That he lived in a huge house, a manor, and it had splendid grounds and a backyard where he could run and jump to his heart's content. And every night he roamed his city, taking out mob bosses, drug dealers, rapists, thieves and actual villains.

Being kept inside, sitting around all day wasn't his style. He only could use one of the training rooms for an hour. The only drive he had to work was to get home. Phil was pretty sure the only reason Robin hadn't attacked Fury was because, to his knowledge, the man held his brother's fates under his thumb.

"I'm not going to pick it up." Phil reminded the steaming boy. Glaring at him, Chris stalked over, grabbed the tool, and slammed it down on his worktable. "Have you been to the training room yet?"

"No."

"We'll go after lunch."

"I'd rather just take a nap." Chris mumbled, fiddling with his tech. "I'll take a power nap and work some more later."

"You sure?" Chris _never_ turned down going to work with the equipment they had. He nodded, smiling very thinly and briefly.

"I'm almost at a breakthrough. I just want to get home. Daddy's gonna be freaking out. He gets…violent when he's scared."

"Does he hurt you?" The wicked thought passed through his mind and across his lips. Chris threw his head back in a laugh. His cheeks were turning red.

"Daddy'd never hurt me. He hurts the villains a lot more." He grinned. "I think he broke Penguin's arm last time I got kidnapped. He thought Penguin knew where Ivy took me, but he had no clue." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "I do feel bad about that. Ivy took me to the outskirts of Gotham, there's a lot of cool flowers and stuff there. I got an A of my science test." He gave a wicked grin.

"Good job."

Chris finished his sandwich, light banter flowing between the two of them as lunch neared its end.

"See you tomorrow Chris."

"Peace Phil." He threw up a peace sign, busing himself with his work.

He was going to talk to Fury about it. Letting the kids talk. Or at least let Chris and the other two know more. Tell Chris they were with the Avengers, safe and sound. Tell Ray and Willie that Chris was alive, that he was working on a way to get them all home. If they were supposed to get Chris to trust them, he needed to know his friends weren't prisoners. Rogers had reported that the other two were having a very hard time dealing with the loss of their beloved brother. Ray neared or shed tears when he looked at Steve, Willie flinched whenever J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke—claiming the voice sounded like 'Agent A'. Ray treated Pepper and Clint with distrust. They needed to know that those they cared about were safe.

 ** _Breakline_**

He was trying so hard not to let it show. But it was happening…..tonight! He sang the word in his head over and over again. He had convinced Dr. Carter to let him stay out just a little longer to work. And bang, he'd be gone. There was an air shaft in the corner of the lab he could fit it. He had hacked the cameras so it looked like he was just working away like a good little prisoner. But in reality, boom—he was off in the hanger flying a little escape pod like ship down and out of here.

Dick gripped his screwdriver tightly, essential for getting into the air shaft. The lab was almost deserted, except for that Frank guy. He was shutting down his station though.

"Will you be okay here kid?" He asked before locking the door.

"Guards are getting me in ten minutes." In reality twenty, he would be long gone before they noticed he was missing.

Frank shrugged. Watching Frank walking…walking…walking…walking…and he's gone. Faster than KF, Dick was unscrewing the air shaft covers. He was working inside. Happy as a lark.

The first stop, where they stashed his uniform. He overheard the agents talking about the 'amazing tech in the kid's belt'. And had gathered that where it was. He needed his belt. Rule number one—never leave home without it.

It felt good to have it back. Dick smirked to himself as he took to the vents once again. Second stop—hanger base.

He could see the craft he was interested in. B67-8UJ. A model very similar to Javelin. Uncle Hal taught him to fly, another thing that made Daddy set new rules. As in, Uncle John had to supervise Uncle Hal if it was his turn to babysit.

There were a few agents milling about, so he couldn't just jump into the ship and fly away. Ninja skills activated. He crept over, slinking into the ship. This put a wrench in his plans. The agents would notice him leaving, but hey! He was home free! Almost.

As he predicted, there was shouting, as he took off. Alarms started to ring around him. He forced the ship to go faster, and he broke out of the hanger.

"Eat it suckers!" He shouted, his laugh dying on his lips as he noticed more ships following him. "Sugar Honey Iced Tea!" He cried. Screaming once more as an explosion rocked the ship. They were shooting at him?! "I'm nine you sickos!"

He took evasive action, trying to avoid the missiles or whatever they were shooting at him. He was running on adrenaline. He lurched forward, fear creeping into his gut as the engines began to cut out.

"No…"He breathed. He was hit…"No!" He wasn't dying again.

He screamed, as he stopped flying. The sinking sensation of fall overtaking him. Wildly he unbuckled himself from his seat, eyes growing wide as he saw what he was falling into. Water. There was a city skyline nearby, a huge statue….the Statue of Liberty! He was in New York City! Dick tried to head toward the doors, going to jump. His re-breather in hand.

A plan forming in his mind. Jump ship, swim to NYC, and figure it all out from there. Just get away from S.H.I.E.L.D. Looking down, he took a huge breath. Plucking up all his courage.

The water bit his skin. It was freezing cold, he shuddered. Swimming for his life. His ship falling in seconds behind him. The shockwaves pushed him forward.

It was dark underwater. With a trembling hand, he pulled out the glow stick. It offered a pale green light. Dick held it tightly, pushing forward. Now he was thankful for the swimming lessons.

It never seemed to end. He popped up every few minutes to see if he was close to land. There was a beachy area in the distance. He planned to head there. His muscles burned, sleep seemed to call to him. The night sky was dark, but NYC offered a lot of light.

He was shivering every time he surfaced, praying that he could soon rest his aching limbs.

Slowly, he pulled himself through the water, feeling the rough sand against his fingers. He dragged himself on the shore. Popped the re-breather out. Dick panted, staring up at the sky, he could see the stars. You couldn't see stars in Gotham, too smoggy. But this view was amazing.

Dick shivered, his teeth chattering together. It was freezing. It was almost Christmas he mused, as he removed the soaking wet top. He stripped down, leaving on his undershorts. He pulled out the small capsule. It took a few times, his fingers were numb, but he eventually opened it. Allowing the hoodie, sweatpants, socks and t-shirt to spill out. He had three outfit capsules, but he didn't have any shoes. That was a problem.

He wormed the shirt over his head. It bore his mentor's symbol. He grinned, tracing the bat shape. That made him feel at home. Pulling the sweatpants up and the socks over his puny feet he made up his mind.

Dick would head into the city, blend in with the crowd, and find someone to help him. He would have to sleep on the streets though. Maybe he could find a soup kitchen or something. Maybe there was a place like the Clinic—he could go there.

 _"_ _If we ever get separated, got to the Clinic. If you can't get there, go to Gotham Chapel."_

That was the backup plan if he and Daddy got separated. The Clinic or Gotham Chapel. Dick would look for a shelter or something…but he would have better luck with a church. Homeless shelters had to register things and stuff, but he could leave a church quick.

He shakily stood, pulling the hood over his hair. He was freezing, his t-shirt already soaked. He was tired, but Dick forced himself to head toward the city—into the frigid night.

Unknowingly his course was going to take him into Queens.

 **Shout-out to Bella for updating! You go girl! Sorry 'bout your kitty. Reward for first person to tell me the specialty of Queens, more specifically the person who lives in Queens…**

 **I don't know if I'll be updating soon. Willy Wonka opens Aug. 5, so yeah…FREAKING THE FRICK OUT! I have my songs…and the most energy onstage I hope. My accent is actually killer (Southern) and my inflatable suit works wicked. I turn into a blueberry. So far my voice is on fleak, just asking for prayers. Also prayers for my pastor who might have to be Willy Wonka since the actor is losing his voice…big uh-oh. So yeah…thanks guys! Violet out!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN) HEY! Willy Wonka had its closing night Sunday! I start school Wednesday! I get to see Wicked Saturday! I'm busy bee! I hope you enjoy this my fanfriends!**

He shivered, his teeth bouncing together in his skull. People bustled by him, ignoring how he stumbled. He was weak…he had died a week ago for crying out loud! The ground below him biting at his heels every time he placed his foot down.

Dick winced, continuing to walk. He had no clue where to go. He didn't want to get involved with anything too big, but he needed help. As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed help. Robin didn't need help. Robin could protect himself. But Dick Grayson couldn't. And Dick Grayson was stuck in a world where waving the name 'Wayne' around couldn't get him whatever he wanted. He was helpless…and he hated it.

A cough racked his frame, Dick's throat felt rough. He was thirsty. Maybe if he found a park there could be a water fountain. He let the idea place itself in his brain. He needed to find another homeless person. But as he looked around, he didn't see any. Maybe he was in the nicer part of town. He needed to get to a bad part. That might seem like a terrible idea to a sensible person, but in the slums and back alleys was were the poor lived. And Robin could speak from experience, that those who had little, often had the biggest hearts.

He turned the street corner, passing a hot dog vendor. Dick kept his head down, trying to ignore the now numbing pain that shot through his bare feet as they made contact with the ice cold pavement.

"Hey kid!" Dick jumped, feeling someone grab the back of his hood. He turned, looking up at a teenager twice his height. The boy removed his hand off the younger's hood. "Where are your shoes?"

Dick stared up at the boy. He had pitch black hair with bright eyes. They were strange, a cross of Dick's own and Wally's. Bright blue with flecks of seaweed green in them. He was caught staring.

"I…I don't have any." He answered, a faint blush climbing up his face. The teen scowled, looking the kid over. He was short. His hair was a little wet, his face pale. His eyes were the deepest blue he had ever seen. Leaning over, the teen slipped his right sneaker off. "I-I can't take your shoes." The boy stammered.

"I live right over there." The teen pointed toward the apartments Dick had walked by only minutes before. "I'll run home and get a new pair. You shouldn't be walking around barefoot in the snow."

"Thanks." Dick murmured, shocked as the sea eyed stranger knelt, shoving Dick's feet into his own shoes. The teen laced them tightly. Grinning at the freezing boy. His heart seemed to ache for the boy, done up in a huge hoodie, though it seemed to provide little heat.

He grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him back a few feet. Dick almost fell, stumbling in surprise over the huge shoes. His feet had gone numb, but now there was a little warmth—tiny pricks of heat covering them. The teen talked to the vendor, smiling all the while. How could someone in nothing but socks be so happy?

The teen handed over a burning hot wrap of tin foil, passing the plastic bottle into Dick's other hand. Dick's jaw dropped, a total stranger had bought him a hot dog and a water.

"Why?" He asked, the only thing he could mutter. The teen shrugged.

"It's almost Christmas. Try out the 8th street chapel. It's across town but there's good people there, I promise."

"I will thanks." The teen turned to go. "Wait!" Dick couldn't take food and shoes from a stranger without knowing their name. "What's your name?"

"Percy." The boy smiled.

"I-I'm Dick." He felt like he could tell a random stranger his name, Percy had helped him. When no one else even looked at him. Percy smiled.

"Merry Christmas Dick."

"Merry Christmas Percy."

Percy turned back to his house, his feet starting to ache in the cold. Mom might not be too thrilled that he had given away his shoes—but that was someone's son. Someone's cousin, friend or brother. For Percy to ignore Dick, was like for him to ignore Tyson. Dick was someone's Tyson.

Dick watched the retreating back. He smiled, turning himself. The cap popped off the water bottle easily. The hot dog got ketchup all over his chin, but it was warm—and the kind of food Alfred never, ever let him eat. Percy had said the 8th street chapel was a place to look. Dick looked up at the cloudy sky. It had taken him almost all day to get into this part of the city—which he had deduced to be Queens from all the signs. If 8th street was across town, he wouldn't make it there until tomorrow.

He sighed, shoving the bottle in his pocket—using his now free hand to flip up his hood. He had a long walk, might was well get started.

 ** _Breakline_**

His back was dripping with sweat. Arms slapping down to his sides—earbuds bouncing about as they hung down his shirt. Roy popped them back in, crouching into position. Wally stood at the other end of the track with Bruce, a stopwatch in the elder's hand. Wally shouted to signal the start, and he was running.

His breath was short, his hands held straight out, arms moving stiffly. He gritted his teeth against the pain festering in his calves, panting as Banner shouted out his time. Still not under a minute.

He stood straight, even though he wanted to double over Wally had said that leaning over constricts the ribcage against your lungs—actually making it harder to breathe.

"A-Again." He huffed out, ignoring how his legs wobbled under his weight. Wally glared at him.

"You're going to pass out from lag of oxygen."

"N-No I won't."

"You can't breathe." Roy tried to shoot back a 'yes I can' but his throat was dry.

"You need to take a break, doctor's orders." Bruce demanded, his ton leaving no room for argument.

"I'm going to take a lap." Wally was beginning to stretch. Roy caught his arm as he pulled it across his chest.

"No."

"Ray, I want to run." Wally's eyes were sad, but Roy couldn't let Wally run. He would forget to hide his speed and go too fast.

"No."

"Dude, please. I _need_ to run."

"You'll give it away." He whispered in his ear. Wally scowled, he was tired of having to go so _slow._ It was painstaking, agonizing! But Roy wasn't going to let him run. "Your speed is the only advantage we have over them." Roy was still whispering, though he pulled away—since Bruce was starting to give them weird looks.

Wally knew this. He knew Roy was paranoid of them. But he didn't see why he was. Thor was really cool, he had the best stories to share. Nat was wicked, smocking hot too. Steve was a great guy to play ping-pong with. Tony and Bruce were the best science buddies ever! The lab, totally sweet. Clint was the only one Wally didn't really like—but he had apologized. Still didn't bring his brother back. Wally could understand not really liking Clint, but Roy hated _everyone_. Even JARVIS and Pepper. It was ridiculous. Anger was boiling inside him, didn't Roy know running was how he coped? Running made him feel better. He had a gut twisting feeling inside him—it never went away. If he ran, at least it would be gone for a little while.

"Robin would've let me run." He mumbled, Roy's eyes growing wider—then narrowing in anger. Wally matched him.

"Robin's not here. I am, and you're going to have to listen to me."

"Well you're stupid! I need to run Ray! That's how I cope, I need to go fast!"

"Why didn't you go faster with Robin?" Roy shouted, his eyes burning with fire. "Why didn't you run ahead?" Wally froze, his gut falling into the pit of his shoes. He couldn't move couldn't breathe. His blood, which had been boiling, was running cold. "It's your fault he's dead you know?" That question cut him like a knife. He knew. Every second that he had and Robin didn't he knew. "It's your fault I held him while he died!" Roy was screaming now, tears falling across his face.

Bruce stepped up to Wally, placing a hand on the stunned boy's shoulder. "That's enough Raymond." His voice was sharp, the shy doctor never spoke this way before.

Roy flicked him off. Bruce glaring. Wally finding his voice.

"I know." He choked out, tears weren't falling though—just because he felt like crying didn't mean he could. "I know he's dead because of me, okay? I'm sorry."

The anger in his brother's eyes didn't die like he hoped it would. Roy didn't stand down and encase him in a hug, apologizing for what he said. Wally just watched, he watched his brother's lip curl in anger—disgust. He was frozen as the word's dripped out of Roy's lips like acid—burning Wally's ears. Bruce's grip on his shoulder tightened as the words hit him like a wicked left hook. Roy turned, stalking away—leaving the phrase just hanging in the air. Leaving Wally to sink to his knees, staring after the hero he idolized. The brother he loved, the friend he wanted to be with. Letting the words echo in his head.

 _"_ _I wish it had been you."_

 ** _Breakline_**

The room was bright, the heater cranked all the way up. Emily had brought in a radio so carols were blaring about them as they bustled around. It had begun to snow heavily, wind tearing at the corners of the small church. The storm had struck up earlier that day, and had been raging for hours. She was glad she made Peter come along—the storm raging outside could take down the power, and May Parker knew if anyone could fix that it would be her nephew.

Peter was helping Matthew and Luke carry in the boxes of canned goods from Luke's truck—all three wearing thick winter coats. They were getting ready for the soup kitchen the church served every Thursday. And making decorations for the upcoming holiday.

It was rather like a party, hot chocolate and donuts were served. People were talking and laughed. May was carrying a box of candles up from the basement—as she passed the door she heard the faintest of sounds. A gentle tap at the door, followed by a more urgent one. Setting the box down, she felt the smooth handle under her hand as she opened the door a crack, curious to see who was outside in such a terrible storm.

"Hello?" She asked, looking down when there was no one her height before her. A hand fly up to May's mouth, eyes widening at the thin frame before her.

There was a mop of black hair, though white powder covered the top. It hung low, covering most of the eyes. They eyes were young, so innocent—yet tired. The deep blue resonated pain. A child's face looked back at her, a pale nearly ghost white face. Bright red flushed around the face. He didn't have a coat, no scar or gloves—not even a hat! The poor thing's ear were bright red. The child's clothes were worse. A thin sweatshirt and athletic shorts were all that covered hem—just standing in the doorway in a thick sweater made May shiver a little. The boy's shoes were almost wearing through. The child shook, trembling in the cold. A cough raked his frame, it sounded like even breathing would knock him over.

"P-Please…" He whispered, coughing into his ungloved hand. "C-Can I come in?"

She threw the door open, practically dragging the child into the warmth. He doubled over, hacking up a lung.

"Oh my goodness." Sarah Johnson was at the child's side. The old woman kneeling next to the boy, feeling his forehead and grabbing his hands. "He's frozen solid! Ed, get the boy something hot to drink!" She ordered her husband.

May waved Peter over, the scrambling boy looking worriedly at the child. "Give him your coat Peter, stay with him. I'm going to call the reverend."

He nodded shrugging off the thick fabric. The boy had been ushered away, being lead to a pew. Ed held a thick cup of hot chocolate, Luke Miles running back in with an emergency blanket he had in his truck. Peter wrapped the coat around the boy. Ed let him take the cup, tipping it up against the freezing boy's lips. Thin hands wrapped around Peter's own—the teen jumping at the ice cube feeling they gave him. The boy drank heavily, draining the cup and shivering.

Peter thought his lips looked a little blue. The kid looked at him, mouthing a tired 'Thank you' as he pulled the jacket and blanket tighter around him.

"Hey…" He wasn't exactly sure what to say to the kid. "My name's Peter Parker. What's yours?"

His teeth chattered for a second, the boy swallowing his shivers enough to speak. "D-Dick Wayne." He whispered. Peter sat next to him, wrapping his arm around the boy—trying to add more heat to the pile.

"What're you doing out? Where's your coat? Where do you live?" The questions were spewing out of him.

"H-Haven't got a coat." Dick coughed, he sounded like he was dying. "O-Or a house. I-I'd d-don't have anywhere to go."

 **AN) Dick was out in a blizzard for a whole day, after taking an hour or so long swim in freezing waters. His immune system isn't up to its normal standards, so he's very very sick. Also playing it up a bit but he's sick. I hope you enjoyed! Please review, I love reviews.**

 **Hammie: Me too! Weview so Momma can wite some mowe with me! And I gets away from dat nasty Spot.**

 **Spot: Yous da nasty one ya brat.**

 **ME: Spot, Alexander…play nice.**

 **Hammie: Spot's a wedcoat!**

 **Spot: Hammie's a scabber!**

 **ME: See what I live with?! Someone give me something to read to escape the madness!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN) Hey, good news. I got a PR of 31 minutes in Cross Country! Bad news, I think my best friend/sister is slowly replacing me. We don't have many classes together, we have one. We aren't in any of the same activities. She spends more time with other friends in the only class we have together. She's my Wally. She's my Steve. She's my Laurens. She's my sister. And I'm really scared. I don't want to lose her. I'm fighting tears as I write this for you guys. You're all my Angelica. You're all my Natasha. You're all my Artemis'. You don't reall know me-yet you support me. Thank you. I'm really sad. I miss my Papa, my stage dad. He made me happy. I'm sorry if I don't write for a while. I'm sorry.**

He leaned against Peter, the older boy not exactly sure what to do. Dick shivered, trying to get warm again. Pretending the teen he barely knew was Roy.

Dick could hear people's voices around him. Mixes of male and female, old and young. Confusion and pity the most common tones he heard. He closed his eyes, coughing harshly. Peter rubbed his shoulders, trying to warm him up.

A soft sound broke the wall he put up, the clearing of one's throat. He glanced up, the light giving him a terrible headache. The face of a man greeted him. He was reminded of Daddy, the man's steel blue eyes looking him over. Soft blonde hair was combed neatly—the man wearing a white collar under a black dress shirt—Richard knowing what that meant.

"What is your name, my son?"

"D-Dick." He cleared his throat—ignoring the dry feeling it had. "Dick Wayne."

The man nodded. "My name is Reverend Williams."

"Hi."

A smile graced the older man's face. "Hello to you as well. Tell me, why are you out in such terrible weather?"

Dick knew he had to pick his words carefully. He needed a story that wouldn't involve the police, orphanages or child services—and in his past experiences those could all work. Kids left on the streets by corrupt social workers and systems were so overlooked in Gotham, but maybe not here.

"My hide-a-way wasn't very good for the c-cold." A cough ripped through his lungs, Peter tightening his hold on the kid as he doubled over. "I-I was trying to find somewhere n-new and someone told me I should g-go to the eighth street chapel. S-so I came here."

Williams nodded. "Where do you live Dick? Where are your parents?"

The boy swallowed quickly, closing his eyes. "My parents are dead." He forced the words from his mouth in monotone. It always hurt when people asked him—no matter how much time had passed. "I don't have anywhere to go."

There was a moment of silence, voices bouncing to each other. Dick sniffled, rubbing the snot off his upper lip. He was tired, sleep sounded like a fun idea.

"We could host him, right?" The voice was close to him, Dick opened his eyes slightly, glancing up at the mousy haired teen who held him. He followed Peter's gaze to the lady who had let him into the church. "Like…let him stay a couple days while we try to find where we could send him?"

"I don't know Peter, is that legal?"

"Not exactly…" Reverend Williams pursed his lips, looking thoughtful between Peter and Richard. "But he is sick. And as of now it's the best we can do. Are you alright with taking him in May?"

"Oh of course!" She hurried. "As long as he's alright with the arrangement."

"Would you be okay with going with Mrs. Parker?"

Dick didn't really care. He needed somewhere warm, a place with food—maybe a change of clothes and a bed. And someplace he could escape easily—and Peter didn't look like he'd be too hard to beat on a fight.

"C-can I sleep there?" He asked, yawning deeply. There was a twinkle in Williams' eyes, a laugh coming from him.

"I'm sure you'll be well cared for."

Dick nodded, snuggling against Peter's chest. The teen gulping and looking down at the little kid he was holding. Dick was literally laying on his lap, snuggled up in a little ball—kid was a cuddly little puppy.

He really wanted to help Dick, something wasn't exactly right about the kid. That feeling in Peter's gut was there—his story wasn't all true. Carefully he stood up with the kid in his arms, worried he would drop him. Dick's eyes were closed tightly, though he still shivered. His clothes were soaking wet, he would need to get out of them soon.

Mr. Miles offered them a ride—too cold to take the kid back outside. The truck wasn't the warmest, but it was better than walking ten blocks without a coat. No, the kid needed a cat more than he did, Peter reminded himself. He hated the winter, it made patrolling a lot harder since the wind tore at him as he swung around the city.

"Thanks Luke." Aunt May waved, her friend nodding as he pulled away. She hurriedly unlocked the door, letting Peter carry the kid in first. "Find him something a little warmer, I'm going to make soup."

"Sure." He headed for the stairs leading to his room. "Hey, Dick…are you awake?"

There was a soft groan in response, dark blue peeking up at him. "Wha…?"

"We're at my house. I'm going to get you dry clothes, 'kay?"

"Cool."

Peter let Dick sit on his bed, the kid sneezing a few times as Pete looked through his closet. Trying to find something that would the little boy. His old sweater might fit, it had shrunk in the wash. Peter pulled out a baggy t-shirt, layers would keep the kid warm. Pants were a little harder, finally deciding to just use a belt with whatever he found. He grabbed sweats and a belt—smiling as he held them out toward the kid.

"These good?" There wasn't much else he could offer. Dick nodded, and began to worm out of his hoodie. Under that was a black t-shirt with a yellow design Peter had never seen before.

Dick was having a hard time getting the shirt over his head, the wet fabric clung onto his skin. Peter grabbed at it, pulling it over the mop of hair. He looked down at the boy, a small 'ahh' escaping him. There was a strange looking mark on the left side of his chest. It was long, stitches covering it.

"What the heck?"

"Don't worry 'bout it." Dick mumbled, pulling the plain white tee over his chest—covering the scar.

"But what—"

"I said, _don't worry about it."_ A sudden hostility filled the kid's voice, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Don't tell anyone—or I'll tell about yours." What…how could he see…? "You have one on your lower back—you m-might want to get a new sweatshirt, that one rides up when you raise your arms."

"Okay…you're a little creepy."

"I get that a lot." A soft smile came over his pale face.

Peter was a little more worried. If Dick could notice things like that—there was a chance, a very slim chance that he could figure out the secret. He tried to push his worries away as he grabbed the thickest pair of socks he had. Dick's shoes were crap. The initials 'P.J.' were written on the soles—so they weren't his. Unless he was lying about his name—but the feeling didn't come when the kid introduced himself. They had most likely been donated then, or salvaged by Dick from a trash can or something. The soles were an inch away from being gone, the laces were frayed heavily and there was a huge hole in the left one.

"Thanks." Dick wheezed slightly, clearing his throat. "Thank you." He said more clearly.

"Don't mention it. My aunt said she was making soup, it's really good—you'll like it."

"As long as it's warm." The kid still felt like an ice cube. He coughed again, he definitely needed a cough drop or something. He held his arms up, the sleeves of Peter's sweater falling down around his elbows.

"You want me to carry you?" Peter raised an eyebrow. Kids _loved_ Spider-man. They thought he was funny and cool. He had pulled kids out of cars and burning buildings before—but that was Spider-man. Web slinger, hope bringer a public hero to most. Dick wanted Peter. Peter Parker, kids didn't really like him. Well—they didn't reject him, but they didn't gravitate toward him. That one time he and M.J. had worked at that summer camp they all loved her, not really him.

Dick dropped his arms. "Sorry." He looked down. "Y-You remind me of my brother."

"R-Really?" Peter stammered slightly, not exactly sure what to say.

"His name's Ray. He thought I was still in trouble, and he went to get me…but I was okay…I-I don't think I'll see him again." His head dropped, fists wrapped around themselves tightly.

There was a feeling in his gut again, but Peter thought it was because Dick could find out about Spidey.

"Sorry." Dick nodded. Peter reached down, picking him up. "Can I be your Ray for a bit?" There was a sudden flash of hope in the blue eyes. "Until we find yours."

"Yeah." He smiled.

"Cool. Come one, I'm pretty sure my aunt wouldn't mind if we stole a cookie."

Dick laughed, wrapping his arms around Peter's neck. This time it didn't feel too weird to hold him.

The kitchen was hot, Aunt May stood over a cutting board, slicing carrots as a pot of broth boiled behind her. It smelled amazing. "Only a few more minutes." She set the knife down, turning around. "Let's get you some medicine." She crossed away, getting the medicine box out.

A thermometer was gently slipped between the kids lips. Peter set him down on an empty place on the counter.

"How old are you?"

Dick looked at him, pointing at the thermometer. He couldn't speak. Instead he raised nine fingers. Only nine? Jeeze, the kid looked like he was six. Well, nine was better than six. There was a beep, Aunt May was working with the soup, so Peter took the thermometer away, gawking at the number.

"Is 99 bad?"

Aunt May looked over his shoulder. "Not terrible, but not good." She measured out liquid, letting Dick swallow it. "Dinner's ready. Would you like to watch a movie Dick?"

The kid nodded. "Do you have Elf?" He asked. "Daddy and I always watched Elf."

Peter looked away slightly, Aunt May nodding. "Of course. I'll bring out soup in just a second if you want to get some blankets on the couch."

Peter set up the movie, Dick swaddling himself in the biggest blanket he could find. His little hands open for the bowel Aunt May gave him.

"Thank you Mrs. Parker." He mumbled.

"You can just call me May."

Dick smiled slightly, nodding and bringing a spoonful up to his mouth. His eyes widened and he swallowed quickly. "Hot." He panted, blowing on the next spoonful of soup he was about to swallow. "B-But really good."

So they watched the movie—Dick eating two and a half bowls of soup, some crackers and he downed a glass of water. His augh was the most contagious thing in the world—and he laughed a lot during this movie. He scared both of the Parkers a few times when his laughing turned into a coughing fit—but he recovered from them quickly.

It had been planned out, Peter would sleep on the couch downstairs and Dick would take his bed. The kid had protested that Peter should sleep in his own bed since he was a guest, but Peter won claiming that the heater in his room was better, Aunt May backing him up. In reality there wasn't a difference—the living room and his bedroom were heated the same, but Peter wasn't sure when the last time Dick had spent in a real bed—and if something went wrong he should at least sleep in a nice bed for one night.

Halfway through the night Peter fell off the couch, he thundered up the stairs—the screams echoing from his room were loud. Aunt May stumbled through the hall, flicking on the lights. Peter threw his door open—looking at the child swapped by his sheets. Dick was screaming, screaming in a language Peter didn't recognize. But he heard names.

"Roy…Wally…Daddy…Daddy please!" the child cried, tears were on his face. He rocketed up with a scream. "Daddy!"

He blinked, staring at the two people near him. He had nightmares normally. But these were worse. It was of his death, but this time—he didn't end up in a good place. And it was always his mami and tati who threw him in.

 **AN) Sorry for the scrappiness. Not been feeling too good. Hope you're doing better than me. Peace my fanfamily.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN) Hey! Can't believe I'm updating ALL my stories this week/weekend, crazy right? Well…since this story's been left alone for a while, here we go!**

Dick was clutching his head, trembling. His bright blue eyes were wide, tears slowly dripping from them. His skin—which had begun to claim a rosier shade—was ashen white.

Aunt May sat on the edge of the bed, Peter right beside the boy. Dick was ignoring them—too in shock to respond to Peter. She placed a small hand on his knee, the boy wincing at her touch.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, Dick blinking in response.

"N-Nightmare." He whispered.

"Oh sweetie." She cooed. Giving the child's knee a little squeeze. "I know just the thing to help you." She stood. "I'll be right back," she smiled and gently closed the door behind her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Peter offered. Talking helped with things, usually. If Dick didn't want to talk, it would be good to offer. So he knew that he had people who wanted to help him.

The kid shook his head, gently running his fingers across the blanket, eyes downcast. "No thanks."

"Are you sure? I mean—"

"I said no Parker." He snapped. Peter pulled back ever so slightly. "Just leave me alone."

"If that's what you want." Peter looked over his shoulder as he ducked out. Dick had flopped on his back, hands covering his eyes.

The small boy tried to wipe the images from his mind. He shook, wanting to cry out for someone, one of his aunts or uncles.

 _The smile was on his face. He had seen it before, as madmen murdered and destroyed. He tried to move—tried to pull his legs out from the ground they were caught in. He watched Wally running around, laughing as he and Roy played tag in the hallway._

 _The smile grew even bigger, as the archer pulled an arrow from his quiver._

 _"_ _Wally, please help me." He grabbed his brother's shoulder, the emerald eyes looking into his._

 _"_ _You're Robin, you don't need my help." And he sped off._

 _Robin's eyes flickered in horror back to the archer, who was now pulling the arrow's nook on the bow string._

 _"_ _Roy! Stop him!" He shouted, his oldest brother ignoring him._

 _"_ _You can do it."_

 _ **Why aren't they helping me?**_

 _The archer was raising his bow, shifting his feet in place._

 _"_ _W-Wally!" He shouted, floundering to stop the boy again. "Wally please, I can't move!"_

 _Wally scowled. "Hey stupid, you're trained by Batman!"_

 _The archer's hazel eyes flickered with delight as he began to look down the arrow shaft._

 _"_ _Roy!"_

 _"_ _Jeeze Rob, you're so needy!" Wally rolled his eyes. "Roy doesn't have super powers and he's not as useless as you."_

 _Dick wanted to cry, he watched in terror as the arrow sailed through the air, he cried out in pain as he felt the sharp metal pierce his skin. He felt his body fall, the blood beginning to cover his torso. He heard laughter._

 _"_ _And you call yourself the son of Batman?" Wally doubled over in laughter._

 _"_ _Sure, sure…you're the Boy Wonder!" Roy held his stomach, rolling his eyes._

 _Dick could feel his life draining, he closed his eyes—hoping to block the laughter._

 ** _You failed them, you stupid failure._**

 _Bright light hit against his eyes. He peeled them open, feeling light—free. He could feel hands wrapped around his shirt, he glanced up, into his father's face._

 _"_ _T-Tati?" He gasped, hope breaking across his face, but failing, as he noticed the rage in his eyes._

 _"_ _You think you belong here?" He shook his son, Robin's teeth chattering inside his skull. "You dare try and come here, after what you did to your mother and me?"_

 _"_ _T-Tati please, I didn't m-mean to." He pleaded._

 _A hand crashed against his head, he fell to the ground, feeling people kicking at him. He wanted to scream, but he bit his lip. Bruce said it was weak._

 _"_ _You_ are _weak."_ _ **Please no, please Daddy don't.**_

 _The kicking stopped, and again he was picking up by the front of his shirt. The lights had faded. Tati held him again, suddenly switching his grip to Dick's shirt back and the bottom of his shirt. Like the cartoon bar tenders did when they threw someone out. He actually did scream as he looked down._

 _Rivers of lava. Fire sprung up on the ground. It was Hell. Dick screamed, begging his father not to._

 _"_ _Let's see how you like falling, murderer."_

 _It was just as painful as it had to be. He hit the ground, hearing shattering bones, feeling fragments pricking him. His head aching in pain. He heard the sound on shoes on shoes on wood floors, groaning and glancing up._

 _Zucco. Dick gasped, as the man brought him to his feet._

 _"_ _Looks like the murderer finally showed up." He was dressed in a fancy suit, hair gelled back. The same way Dick saw him in all other nightmares. "And I get my second-in–command."_

 _"_ _W-what? I'm not evil!" He shouted through the pain._

 _"_ _Whatever you say kid." Zucco was dragging him away, towards a huge crystal mirror. Dick's blood ran cold as he saw himself in a suit very close to Zucco's. "You did help me kill your parents through."_

 _Dick just stared. He could hear the voices ringing in his head, laughter. "No…no…I'm not…nu…nu sunt…" He stared intently, wanted to throw up. He wasn't like Zucco, he_ wasn't.

 _But if he looked close enough, he could see two tiny lapel pins—one orange and black, the other a silver owl head._

"Richard, sweetheart." He opened his eyes. Mrs. Parker hovering over him. He sat up slightly. "I know this isn't much, but Peter loved it a lot." She placed a worn looking stuffed tiger in his lap. "This is Hobbes. I think you need him more now."

"Y-You're giving him to me?"

She smiled. "Peter doesn't need him now. But you do." She leaned down, smoothing his hair—planting a soft kid on his forehead. "Get some sleep, you need to rest."

She left the desk lamp on, turning on the main light. Dick stared at the tiger. An unknown rage burning in his gut.

" _Don't be such a baby." His evil voice whispered. "Stop whining."_

Robin glowered at the tiger. He didn't need a stuffed animal. Anger began to boil in his blood. He was tired of being treated like he was a baby, tired of being underestimated.

He threw the tiger, letting it sail into the half closed closet door. He knocked something over, a pile of clothes falling to the floor. What did he care? Let Peter pick them up.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He didn't need a nightlight either. He huffed, going to shut off the lamp. Before he could turn off the light, he cast one small glance at 'Hobbes'. A thin eyebrow was raised as Dick noticed the brightly colored clothes the tiger had knocked over. He recognized the material—a mix of blue and red spandex and Kevlar. HE drew in closer, looking wide eyed at the obvious super hero suit he held up.

It had intricate black web lines on the red chest, little bits of blue on the sides and pants. A narrow, long-legged spider drawn in the middle.

"What the—"He looked it over. No way—Peter _couldn't_ be a superhero.

Maybe he was a villain? But he seemed so nice!

" _Well James ain't too bad either but…"_

What was he supposed to do? He didn't think Mrs. Parker knew. As much as he wanted to run screaming down the stairs, demanding answers—he would hate it if someone revealed his identity to Babs. So, he would take the moral high ground and wait—maybe Mrs. Parker would leave the house or Peter would visit by himself.

Dick looked at the tiger with a more found regard. "Well Hobbes, I think I'd make a pretty good Calvin?"

He grabbed the tiger, taking the uniform with him, hiding it under the bed. Maybe Peter would try to go on patrol and freak out because he couldn't find his costume. Peter ha to be a hero, Dick already had a plan forming. He was going to get the teen to do _exactly_ what he wanted.

 ** _Breakline_**

If panic was represented by a person it would be Peter Parker standing in the doorway of his room, with a plate of pancakes in his hand which his aunt told him to give to Dick as she left for her shift at the hospital to find the kid with his suit.

"So…what are you? Some sort of Spider Teen?"

"Spider-Man." He corrected, mentally screaming at himself. "That's not mine." Dick raised an eyebrow. Boy, he was a little bucket of sass. "I-I…uh…I cosplay." He stammered out, Dick snorting slightly.

"Then why is there a tear," he thrust his hand through the rip Peter had forget to fix, "in the same sport you have a scar?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth, floundering. He didn't know what to say. The kid had caught him. "How did you—"

"I'm a detective." Dick smiled, tossing the suit toward him. "It's what I do."

"You can't tell anyone." He drew in closer, going to the closet to grab his mask. Time for a new hiding place. He yanked the top of the hood, groaning as his S.H.I.E.L.D. communicator flew out. He usually wrapped it in his mask, but he forgot. Peter would grab it later.

Dragging out an old box of Monopoly he dumped the pieces on the floor, kicking them away. He folded the suit, putting it in the box, shoving the box to the back of the closet.

Peter turned to see Dick staring at the comm, his knuckles wrapped so tightly around it they were chalk white. "Give that to me." He moved closer, Dick's head jerking up and stumbling back.

"You work for _them."_

Peter raised an eyebrow, stepping in closer. "Give me the comm."

Dick whispered the same phrase again. Backing up even more. His eyes were wide, his pupils becoming smaller every second. He nearly tripped over his feet.

"Yeah, Spider-Man works with S.H.I—"Peter froze, looking down at the kid in worse confusion. "Why didn't you know about Spider-Man?"

"I can't trust you." Dick shook his head, the comm falling limply from his hand. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"You work for Fury."

He sighed. "He's not really that bad onc—"

" _He didn't tell my brother's I was alive!"_ Dick shouted, rage spewing from every ounce of fiber in his body.

"…what?" Peter asked, Dick glared—but not really at him. He seemed to be regaining some of his composure. "How do you _know_ Fury?"

Dick was just a civilian. Just a homeless kid, right? That's what he had said. But it really, really was starting to seem like he wasn't. Peter could get noticing a scar, he could understand Dick finding his uniform, the kid being able to line said scar and a hole in his uniform up was a stretch—but the fact that he was terrified of S.H.I. . And he held a crazy hatred for Fury—a man little to no civilians had come in contact with had put the finishing touches on the Cake of Suspicion.

"Dick, how do you know Nick Fury?" He pressed a little more adamantly this time, the kid having not answered him.

The kid waited, crossing his arms firmly. "I'm not from here—at all. My name is Robin, and I work with my dad Batman and a group called the Justice League. Kid Flash, Speedy and I are the sidekicks so to speak. We needed up here on accident, and I was killed by an archer." He uncrossed his arms, running a hand through his hair. "S.H.I.E.L.D brought me back somehow, and tried to use me. So I ran away. Now I'm here."

Peter nodded, dumfounded. A hero from another _universe?_ A sidekick? Someone brought _back_ from the _dead?_

"You're going to help me."

"What, run away? Kid, hate to tell you—but I need to turn you into S.H.I.E.L.D." Dick—Robin—scowled.

"Not if you want to keep your aunt from knowing about that you don't." He pointed in the suit's direction. "So, you're going to take me to the Avengers." He spoke with such certainty.

"And if I don't know the Avengers?" Peter was a pretty laid-back dude, but he didn't like being bossed around and threatened by a nine-year-old.

"Then you _will_ find out, or your aunt won't be the only one knowing the face behind the mask."

 **AN) Robin's being a little mean, but I don't blame the poor birdie. Like the nightmare? I like writing terror/torture. Please review! To all of those who've seen that I've updated Renegade and read it but NOT reviewed *pouty face* please? Don't make me get Hammie in here to pout and plead. Kid does puppy dog eyes like no other. Oh! I'm considering writing a Hamilton Modern AU, tell me thoughts!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN)…hey. So this week sucked. So…someone cyberbullied me. Someone I knew. They tried to play it off as a joke.** ** _What kind of joke it posting a video of someone with the caption when you have no friends?_** **I've forgiven them, but it still hurts. I trusted her very much. Thank you for being my friends.**

Peter ran his fingers through his hair. Did he really want to do this? He should turn the kid in, for all he knew Dick could be a criminal! What would Fury do if he found out Peter had let the kid go? Peter really didn't want to get in trouble with the director again. But Dick was just a kid…how could he be a villain? It seemed impossible, but Peter had learned on the job not to judge anyone too quickly.

He watched from the stairwell, Dick was laying on his stomach in front of the television, his feet up in the air and his hands cupped around his chin. A large blanket was spread across his whole form, moving slightly as he kicked his feet gently. Was that little midget really a villain?

He winced as the stair creaked as he shifted his weight, he really didn't want Dick to know he was just watching. But the little freak probably already knew. Peter glanced at the hall clock…Aunt May would be coming home soon. How could he sneak Dick out without her knowing? It wouldn't make sense if the kid just disappeared.

"Peter?" Dick turned to sit up. "Are we leaving soon?"

His heart stopped, the bright eyes looked so freaking hopeful…holy Hufflepuffs how could Peter not do what the kid asked?

"Yeah." Gosh darn it he hadn't meant to say that! Dick leapt to his feet, smiling as wide as Peter was nervous. "We have to wait for my aunt to come home though…and figure out what to tell her."

"Oh I got that covered." Dick waved a dismissive hand. "Just give me a paper and pen."

"A note, really?"

Dick shrugged, "yeah why not? I'll just say that I didn't want to go to an orphanage or a social worker so I ran. I'll leave your bedroom window open." That was actually a pretty good. "Easy peasy."

"Why are you so good at lying?" Peter glanced over the short kid worriedly, "you're literally a little kid."

"It's not lying…it's improving the truth a little." Dick smiled like the devil. Peter shook his head.

"Whatever you say kid."

Their heads swiveled to the sound of the door opening.

"Hey boys!" Peter watching as Dick jumped onto the couch, pulling his blanket with him. As he flopped down he kicked Peter into the chair behind him, pointing wildly at the stack of little kid books Aunt May had gotten out from the attic. Peter caught onto his act and grabbed a book with a turtle on it and pretended to read.

He looked up at smiled at his aunt in her nurse's scrubs, her arms full with grocery bags. "Hey Aunt May."

"Hi M-Mrs. Parker." Dick smiled weakly.

"How are you feeling Richard?"

"Well, thanks."

"Do you need help Aunt May?" Peter started to close the book, beginning to stand.

"No, keep on reading!" She scolded, heading toward the kitchen. Muttering something about 'adorable'.

Dick began to snicker, turning his laughter into a cough. Peter leaned over and whacked him with the paper back.

 ** _Breakline_**

He gently scratched across the paper, thanking his host for her hospitality and gift. He was taking Hobbes with him…duh! Peter was in costume, waiting beside him on the bed. Dick folded the paper, dropping it on the pillow. He nodded the teen, Peter pulling his mask on. Dick grabbed a cord from his belt, tying Hobbes to his back. Peter had webbed up a pair of gloves for Dick to wear, and Dick tied the gloves around his wrists as well. He had a very strong grip but it was better safe than sorry.

"You ready?" Peter asked. Dick nodded, moving to crawl out the window. Peter barely fit through behind him. The two boys stood on the slanting roof, Dick tying the gloves shut while Peter crouched lower, not wanting to be seen. Dick didn't know why he was worried, it was past eleven…didn't he know how to hide in the shadows? Daddy had taught him that first, claiming the best offense was a good defense.

Dick jumped on Peter, the teen releasing a small 'oof' at the surprise weight. He held on tightly, watching with wide eyes as Peter crawled away, over the neighbors houses and towards the brighter lights on the city, which was way brighter than Gotham.

"Why isn't it super foggy? Or raining?"

"It rain a lot where you live?" Peter asked over his shoulder.

"Buckets. Grandpa waterproofed one of my suits. I never wear it though, it drivers him bonkers."

He really wanted to get back home. He wanted to swing on his grappling hooks and let his cape fly behind him. He wanted to breaking through glass windows and flip off fire escapes into alleys. He wanted the smoke of Gotham, at first he hated the gray clouds, but now it felt like a second skin.

Dick wondered how his city was doing, he was just as protective of it as Daddy was. The League was trying to figure out what Luthor's latest plan was, that's why he and Roy and Wally were at the Watchtower, and hopefully Uncle Clark had stopped the bald jerk. Dick really hoped Joker hadn't gotten out while he was gone, Daddy never slept until Joker was locked up again—and as much as Daddy didn't want him near the creep Dick wanted to help take him down.

"Hey kid." Peter shouted, Dick blinking in surprise. "You ready to have some fun? We're gonna swing!"

Dick clutched onto Peter's shoulders, he watching as a silvery strand shot out from Peter's wrist, latching onto a building. Peter leapt forward, pulling on the webbing and shouting. Dick laughed as the wind rushed through his hair, stinging his unmasked eyes. It was like Gotham.

Peter swung with grace, reminding Dick of the circus. His gut began to twist, and he could feel his tati's arms squeezing him and his mami's soft hand stroking his cheek. Dick blinked back tears, trying to shift his mind to Gotham nights instead of circus tops. It worked slightly.

Dick lifted his face to New York, watching the lights and traffic below rush by. He saw the brilliantly lit marquees of Broadway, Wicked, RENT, and Phantom. He smiled.

"Wahoo!" Peter shouting, tucking his body into a flip. Dick mimicking his cry.

"This is asterous!"

So they flew, Dick watching in awe. He liked to travel like this. He wasn't even getting tired! A tiny bit of disappointment filled his chest as Peter landed atop a roof.

"Already?"

"Nah, just wanna tell them I'm coming." Peter pulled his communicator out of a hidden pocket. He spoke softly, Dick resting his head on the teen's shoulder.

 ** _Breakline_**

Wally jumped as a body rammed into his door. He had locked himself away after…Roy. He heard voices asking him to come out, voices discussing what to do, and voices telling other voices to leave. The door banged open, Roy rushing towards him. Wally tensed ready for Roy to hit him.

Instead hands grabbed his wrists and pulled him off his bed, dragging him to the hall.

"W-What?"

"He's alive!" Roy shouted, running faster than Wally could keep up. "He's alive and he's coming here!" Wally didn't believe it. Dick couldn't be alive. He watched him bleed out, Wally felt his heart stop. But Roy was jumping and screaming, laughing and dancing in joy.

Roy hugged him tightly, his laughter dying down. It was sudden, as sudden as an explosion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, Wally slowly wrapping his arms around him as well. "I…I can't believe I said that."

"It's okay…"

"NO it's not!" Roy held his face between his hands. "I'd be in the same situation if I lost you. I was a cotton headed ninny muggings. And I'm sorry." His eyes were downcast, he was slumping slightly.

Wally squeezed him tightly. "Good thing I forgave you an hour ago."

Steve smiled slightly, waves of relief rushing over him. He actually heard Bruce sigh.

Thor run to the two, crushing them in his large arms and picking those up off their feet. "Come brethren, we must prepare a feast for the conquer of death!" To humor the god that's what they did. Wally and Roy tried to cook, Pepper really stepping in to help, and surprisingly Clint.

Roy was trying to grab a box of flour Pepper asked him to get from the shelf. He was just a couple inches too short though. He felt someone move behind him and the box was passed down to him. He glanced up to see Clint, a nervous smile on his face.

"Ray, you know I didn't mean to…kill him, right?" Roy nodded slowly. "And he's alive now, so…are we cool?"

The junior archer stared the senior bowman directly in the eye. Clint waiting on baited breath for an answer. Ray moved suddenly, his knee jerking up. Clint letting out a mangled cry.

"Now we're cool." Ray smirked at the man on the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. Wally had fallen off his barstool in laughter.

Steve had to duck out of the room his face was so red, Bruce was shaking his head with a smirk on his face. Thor looking sympathetically at the archer. Tony had his head on the island, fists hitting the marble as he cried. Natasha was dragging Clint to his feet

"Get up you baby."

"Have you ever been kicked in the manhood Tasha? No you haven't you female!"

 ** _Breakline_**

Elevator doors opened, a bright red and blue cloaked teen and a midget stepped out. Wally screamed, the midget screaming as well. Roy dashed forward, tackling the boy into the elevator. Both crying and laughing, shouting in surprise as the elevator doors' began to close once more. Spiderman stopping the event and pulling the bundle of limps out. A third body landed in the pile.

Ray, Willy and Robin were rolling on the floor. Laughing, cheering and sobbing into each other. It was endearing. Minutes flew by and the kids made no sign of letting go or standing up.

Twenty minutes later the broke apart, Willy holding onto Robin hand and Ray holding Robin.

"That's Spiderman, he brought me." Robin pointed to Peter, the teen waving shortly. Willy crashed into his legs.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" He shouted. Peter patted his back awkwardly. Willy let go, falling back to Robin and Ray.

"Look, I gotta go—stay safe kiddo." Peter ruffled the oxen haired boy's locks. Robin smiling.

"Thanks, tell your aunt she makes great soup, and your pastor he's cool." Peter nodded, saluting the senior heroes and their good-byes as he left.

Introductions were made by Ray and Willy, each Avenger greeting the kid differently.

"It's good to see you alive Robin." Steve patted him on the back.

"Fork over my tech birdie." Tony smirked, fist bumping the eye rolling kid.

"It is good to see you again brave warrior!" Thor thundered, crushing Robin's hand.

"It's very nice to meet you." Pepper smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Nice belt." Natasha told him, Robin smiling slyly.

"You gave us all a heart attack kid." Bruce wrung hands firmly.

Clint was last. Robin seemed to recognize him, and leaned over from Ray's arms and gave the blond a hug.

"I'm sorry."

Robin shrugged slightly. "The past's the past. Don't do it again." He wagging a finger in Clint's face, his suddenly serious expression almost adorable.

"Come one Robbie, we made foooood." Willy pulled Ray toward the kitchen, where a few waffles had been made.

A ding cut through the chatter, all eyes focusing on the elevator as it opened a second time.

Clint groaned slightly, Tony cursing under his breath as Fury stepped out. The man's one good eye sweeping over the heroes and landing on the smallest of them all.

Willy jutting a thumb at the newcomer, Ray raising an eyebrow.

"Who's this clown?" The freckled ginger asked, Robin rolling his eyes.

"That's Uncle Nicky. And I'm in deep shipoopy."

 **AN) On a less melancholy note…my birthday is in 2 weeks! Yay! Could you guys…draw fanart? Of anything, from any of my stories! Please? It would be a great birthday gift. Thanks for reading guys…review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN) Happy New Year Fanfam! I love you all so dearly! I wanted to update this one before 12, but I started hanging out with people instead of writing so…my bad. My first port of 2k16! I'm sorry I haven't written much this break, I still have till Thursday though. You see…I GOT NETFLIX FOR CHRISTMAS! I've binged YJ…twice! So I know everything now! Well…here's this!**

Dick mentally cursed. He did not want to deal with Fury, not now. He needed to keep Fury away from Wally and Roy. Fury was the one who threatened to hurt them, he was the jerk who kept information from him. The idiotic seal who had been sassy back.

"Nice to see you too young man."

 _I swear if he's sassy again I'll kick myself…_

"Who the heck are you baldy?" Roy demanded, Fury giving him a none too pleased look.

"I am Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., the same question can be asked of you."

"Ray Prince, Willie Allen, and Robin." Roy scowled. "Did you know my brother was alive?"

 _Ha! Take that Fury! You're about to get a whole can of Big Bro Butt Whoop unleashed!_

Fury remained silent. "Well, are you going to answer him or not?" The ebony snarled. Nick watched with one eye, Robin glaring through his mask. "You tell them or I will."

The Avengers weren't exactly sure what to do. Tony knew that he would step in soon and take over. These kids didn't know how to deal with Fury like he did. How to annoy him until you got your way.

"Yes, I did."

An animalistic growl festered in the back of the archer's throat. His grip tightening on his brother. Willie's mouth dropped, his fists balling up.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Steve stepped forward, "do you know how hard it's been on these kids, on Clint, to go through this?"

"I did what needed to be done, Captain."

"You may be smart, but this is stupidity at its finest. Trust me, I should know." Tony scoffed. "Why would you keep the kids from knowing their brother was alive?"

Robin rolled his eyes, pushing off of Ray. "To blackmail me basically." He strode towards Fury, turning to face the Avengers. "I was told that my brother's situation depended on _my_ cooperation. He wanted me to create Zeta-beams, which I did as well, to get me home. But I think you wanted them for something more Uncle Nicky?" A smirk danced on his face. "For your own use?"

"Again with the weapons?" Steve groaned.

"And they think _I'm_ a time-bomb." Bruce commented. "This is like the fifth time something like this has happened."

"Needless to say, Robin is on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You held me against my will!"

"Not exactly."

"You shot me out of the sky!" Robin threw his hands in the air.

"I'm not sure about here, but back home that's not exactly friendly." Willie joined in.

Fury looked at the freckled boy. "Friendly or not, Robin needs to return to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ray whipped forward, pulling his little brothers behind him. He grabbed a plate off the counter, holding it like a weapon. "Like Bantha Dung you're taking anyone of us."

"Easy," Clint slid in-between the kids and his boss, "no one's taking anyone right now."

"Or ever!" Willie shouted from behind Ray. "Can I use it now?"

Ray nodded briefly, "get my bow." The smirk that covered the second ginger's face looked like none Tony had ever seen or made.

"Finally dude!"

It was unreal. There was a streak of red on top of blue. Eyebrows arched and a few heads swiveled. The streak appeared once more, returning Willie with a bow and quiver in his arms. Ray moved as fast as the blur, aiming an arrow at the bald man's chest.

"Oh wait!" Willie turned into the blur again, the stacks of waffles disappearing until he returned with the breakfast food in his hands behind Ray.

"The abnormality." Natasha whispered, Willie giving a huge smile.

"My abnormally handsome face, or your abnormally large—"

"KF!" Robin shrieked. "Dude!"

"Drop your weapons at once." The director he commanded, Ray raising his boy higher in defiance.

"No one is taking him from me again. Rob, you're in charge."

"Maneuver 17, go!"

Ray released his arrow, jerking up at the last second to fire at the ceiling. A green gas began to fill the air, Robin tossing rebreathers to his friends.

"Agents report in!" Fury held his com close to his mouth, groaning as a sharp…something knocked against his hand—sending the com to the ground and the projectile into the wall.

Tony lurched forward, trying to grab the kid and end any drama before it happened. Hands wrapped around his wrist, sending him flying through the air and crashing on top of Thor.

Natasha had a more successful attempt, and Willie was in her grasp.

"Sorry babe, gotta run." Her eyebrows raised an inch as the boy's arm began to quiver and bend. It felt like a phone on vibration. Was he…vibrating his molecules? He broke free needless to say, and was gone sooner than she could blink.

Glass shattered, Ray firing a cable out of the window. "Come on!" He threw over his shoulder as he attached his bow to the cord like a zip-line. Willie was at his side immediately, latching onto Ray's waist as the archer jumped out the window.

Robin cackled, sending shivers down spines. He launched into the air, flipping with ease. Landing mere inches from a stuffed tiger abandoned on the ground. He fired his own line from a grappling hook stashed in his belt.

"Bye ya'll." He snickered, giving a two fingered salute and jumping out the window himself. His creepy laugh echoing as he zoomed away to join his friends.

"Well…that was a surprise." Clint shrugged.

Fury was fuming as he picked up his communicator. It wasn't damaged luckily. "All agents to do a full sweep of a ten block radius on Avengers Tower, the target and two boys. Red hair, green and brown eyes. Fury out."

"What's the plan?" Steve asked, pulling the weapon out of the wall. Robin had thrown with scary ease and aim. The black metal glinted in the light, its pointy edges not something a child should have. It looked like…a bat?

"Find them."

"What after?"

"I want the tech." Bruce spoke firmly. "Whatever he made, I want it in the lab. Tony and I'll work on it, when we find them we send them home. Period."

"Take it," Fury waved him off, "I want them gone."

"Cheery guy." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Make haste! We must find the small warriors before they go far, the city is dangerous at night, and they are strangers." Thor stormed away, to fetch Mjolnir. He wasn't allowed to call for it inside anymore, fourteen vase, twenty walls and nine mirrors had been too much.

"I think they'll be fine." Steve called to no avail, Tasha peering over his shoulder at the bat-weapon.

 ** _Breakline_**

A hand grabbed onto the back of his shirt and pulled. Robin was about to scream and kick the assailant until Roy's familiar eyes came into play.

"The heck? I was about to drop kick you to Beijing."

"Sorry, did they follow you?"

"Nah, but they'll be looking."

They were crouched behind a dumpster, Wally perched on Roy's shoulders.

"Can we wear out uniforms _please_?" He pleaded, puppy dog eyes in full mode. "I've felt so naked!"

Dick shrugged, Wally doing a little happy dance. He should have capsules with uniforms for almost all of the Justice League, even Flash in case he ran so fast his suit melted—again.

While it would've been smarter to stay in civilian clothes and blend in, but it had been so long since any of them had been in uniform, it would feel right.

They changed quickly, Roy pausing a moment to finger the scar on his chest.

"Dear God…"

"It's okay, I'm fine." He laughed, trying to smile. Roy looked down at him, wrapping his arms around him and falling to the ground. Dick could feel his chest heaving and hands running though his hair.

"You're r-real." He heard Roy whisper. "I thought you were a dream."

Dick began to tremble too. He had been so scared. He had heard Wally scream and felt Roy grabbing at him. But he would always remember the feeling of his heart being pierced. Not fully, but there was the pain of the skin—and then a rocket of pain further inside. It had to been his heart.

The agonizing pain of being pulled from death. If his heart stopping had hurt, it starting again was worse. Like he had been sprinting, had tripped and twisted his ankle, and then hopped up and took off sprinting again. Not smart and insanely painful.

But he was with Roy, folded against his chest with Wally wormed next to him. He could feel both their heartbeats mixing this Dick's own. It felt so safe, so…right. As much as he wished to be with his family, Wally and Roy were his family too.

There was a loud sniffle, Roy wiping away snot. "We gotta get going." They untangled, Robin finishing sliding his uniform on. Roy loving brought the black and yellow cape up to his neck with a flourish. Latching it firmly in place as Wally smoothed a mask over blue eyes.

"I can dress myself." He pouted slightly, not liking the depressed air they were facing. Wally threw his head back, laughing like a hyena.

"And you look like a traffic light when you do!"

"Says yellow and red long johns." Roy shoved the speedster's head down. "Where do we head now?"

"Anywhere but here." Robin nodded toward the rooftops. "Let's kick it Gotham style."

He fired a grapple, Roy doing the same with Wally on his back.

"If he makes me go in a vent I'm revolting."

"Do you hear the people sing?"

 ** _Breakline_**

"Run!"

They hadn't gotten out fast enough it seemed. Robin threw his Bat-a-Rangs as he flipped off a now falling agent's shoulders. They were surrounded, almost. A gap was being created.

Roy slid in behind him, Wally trying to steal all the guns off the agents—but kept getting caught in combat. The archer and bird circled each other, arrows and discs flying.

"Be really nice to have a mental link 'bout now." Roy groaned.

"I hope Uncle M has a sidekick." Robin spat, launching straight into an income enemy's chest. "League has it nice with those links." The archer laughed, hitting a man with a buzz cut in the jaw with the butt of his bow and received a similar hit from someone else.

"How—"Kid whizzed by. "Are we—"A blur again. "Getting out of this?"

"Heck if I know." Robin shrugged. "We've almost made an opening." He whispered to Roy, the archer nodding.

"Then we head for that."

"Maneuver 23!" Robin called to the wind, Wally stopping—getting a punch in the face because of it. He scowled, turning sharply on his heel and swept Robin off his feet like a damsel in distress and Soniced away.

Robin held on tightly, peering through half closed eyes as agents turning into streaks of blue and the roof faded into bright lights and the lights crumbled into the dark.

Wally was panting, he practically dropped Dick without warning.

"You okay dude?" He shook his head.

"Hungry—"He gasped. "Waffles the only thing I ate all day."

Robin rolled his eyes, delving into his belt for the protein bars he kept for emergencies. "I have some food, Roy should have—"Hands froze in mid-air, Dick's eyes growing wide behind the mask.

"What's wrong?" Wally asked. "What about Roy?" Then he realized it too. "Cold…COLD! We have to go back!"

"You don't have the energy." Robin scowled.

"We can't just leave him with them!" Wally rubbed his hands down his face.

"We won't. I know someone who can help." Robin looked around, gathering his surroundings. "We just need to get Broadway, I know the way from there. Come on." Wally followed, still chewing on the bar. Looking over his shoulder. "We'll get him back."

"I know. I just can't believe we left him." Robin nodded. "Why can't anything go right for us?"

 **AN) So now S.H.I.E.L.D. has Roy, he'll be overjoyed at that. I'm going to update Renegade…but I'm not too sure I'm going to continue. I haven't gotten a very much feedback, which makes it hard since I've sort of lost momentum and need a feedback push forward. I might have to saw that Apprentice doesn't end happily and I don't want to do that. Well, here's hoping to 2017! I hope you all feel safe, supported, loved, special, and at peace this year. Because you deserve all those feelings I promise. I hope I can use my position as a writing to help people. I love you guys!**


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